


Speranta Lumii

by Irishrose



Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer (Comics), Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV), Dracula - Bram Stoker, Dracula the Un-Dead - Dacre Stoker & Ian Holt
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-06
Updated: 2019-12-08
Packaged: 2020-01-05 19:31:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 40
Words: 118,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18372629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Irishrose/pseuds/Irishrose
Summary: A mysterious girl with more power than any human should have arrives in Sunnydale and begins targeting people involved in Buffy's life. When she starts killing innocents however, Buffy is forced to intervene. But when the girl turns out to be Buffy's daughter, who has come from the future carrying a dire warning of a world lost to demons and darkness, everyone is forced to reconsider everything they believed to be true.A response to Mia Vaan's challenge: Time Travelling Child over at Elysian Fields.Be advised, this story's timeline will jump all over the place. There are essentially two running time lines in this story, with the chapters alternating between the two. The first one begins with the prologue and picks up where Ophelia/Speranta has begun journaling her trip into the past in order to change it so she can save the world. The second time line begins with chapter 1 and is what happened in the past before she was sent back. Timeline 1 is what she is doing/changing. Timeline 2 is what happened that ended up destroying the world. So it is sort of like getting two stories in one!





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

They say that every story has a beginning. I suppose that’s true. I know mine definitely does. The problem is nailing down just where, or should I say when, the story of me began.

My name is Ophelia. Ophelia Willamina, actually. I know, seriously ancient name, right? Most people just call me Phe for short, although my aunt Tara called me Willa when I was little and my Grandpa… the one I currently call grandpa... just calls me Speranta. It was his suggestion I write this so that we would have a record of everything. Really though, I think he just likes to be famous and thinks that if I succeed then he will get to be even more famous. I think. I’m not exactly sure how this is all supposed to work with the time travel and all. Meh, I’m getting ahead of myself. Let me back up a bit.

I was raised by my grandpa Giles. He’s not really my grandpa. He was my mother’s watcher. But, he was supposedly like a father to her, so I guess that sort of makes him my grandpa. Anyway, he raised me for the most part with the help of my aunts and uncles. There were a lot of those when I was growing up, even though none of them were actually related to me. Supposedly I do have a real aunt somewhere out there, but they said she abandoned us not long after I was born. As time went by and The First and its demons took over the world, I ended up losing some of those aunts and uncles. And the ones that are left? I cut them out of my life after they killed the only man I ever loved just because he was a vampire. They never could see the shades of gray. For some reason, all the more enlightened ones are the ones we lost. So, I don’t know, maybe they had a point. Who knows? Anyway, that was when my current grandpa found me and took me in. He taught me a lot about history and opened up a whole different level of magic to me. And eventually… he told me the story of how I came to be.

He hates it that I call him grandpa, even though he kind of is in a roundabout way. He always corrects me though. “Speranta,” he would say with that deep accent of his coloring every word, “I am not your grandfather, I am merely your benefactor, as you are mine.” All of this was his idea. He’s the one who sent me back in time; with help of course from the few Roma that are still alive. He keeps them sheltered in his castle. Somehow they managed to pull it off and plop me down in little old Sunnydale California in the year 2000 so I can try to change history just enough to maybe save the world. Ugh, I’m still getting way ahead of myself.

See, technically speaking, I shouldn’t even exist. Granted, there are a lot of things in the world that shouldn’t exist, and yet they do. I just happen to be one of them. Like, the odds of me existing at all are too astronomical to calculate. Although apparently there used to be a lot more people like me back in the dark ages. But then we were hunted to extinction. We became a legend. A cautionary tale to humans that some lines should never be crossed. Now, there are only two of us that I know of. And a lot of people and demons apparently thought that was two too many.

First of all, I’m the daughter of a slayer. A damn good one, too, if you believe what everyone says about her. Slayers are usually secluded from a young age, never getting to live a normal life. Pretty crummy if you ask me, and I should know. My own upbringing wasn’t much different. But even the slayers like my mom who go undetected until they are called, rarely live long enough to fall in love and have children. There’s only been a hand full of us born to slayers over the millennia. To my knowledge, none of us ever really knew our mothers. One or two were maybe a few years old, but the rest of us lost our mothers when we were just babies.

Second of all, there’s my father. I never knew him either because he was killed before I was even born. He wasn’t even supposed to be able to have children, but grandpa changed that. Which is why it’s sort of hard to pin down just when my story began. Some might say it began with his birth in the 1400s. Grandpa’s that is. You could also say it started back in 1901 after some little known guy wrote a book that introduced the whole world to vampires and told everyone exactly how to kill them. Grandpa says it was all done by an ‘ineffectual fool’ as revenge for the birth of grandpa's son, Quincy. Others might say it began in 1959 when my father accidentally freed grandpa. Apparently, some Count had imprisoned him inside a statue for twelve years until my father deliberately smashed it on his way out of town.

So exactly when do I think my story begins? I think it began on a dark and stormy night back in the year 2000 when grandpa decided to seek out my mother, the slayer, and see if she was ‘worthy’ of becoming his bride. He says that he decided she was actually too worthy of the world to give her the ‘gift’ of immortality. Which I think is probably code for, “she kicked his butt.” Either way, I guess she must have made quite the impression. Because on his way out of town, he decided to visit my father in order to repay the debt owed for freeing him. That’s the night that forever changed the lives of both my mother and father.

The night Vlad Dracul paid his debt to my father, William the Bloody? That is the night that the story of me really begins.


	2. Chapter 1

_September 26, 2000_

I have crossed paths with this particular immortal more times than I wish to acknowledge. At one time I considered him nothing more than a careless and contumacious fool, obviously unworthy of the gift someone must have errantly bestowed upon him. My estimation of him has not changed in that regard. However, even I must admit that he has proven himself to be more perseverant than most of our kind that I have encountered, and quick to adapt his wit to the situation. He is nothing if not passionate in his every action. Pity he does not use his wit before he foolishly acts or he would be a formidable opponent. It would have caused me less shame to live with the knowledge that I owe him a debt. One that I am here now to repay.

I press onward, into the crypt in which this particularly loathsome creature is apparently residing. The more expedience with which I pay this debt, the sooner I can divest myself of this accursed place and return to my beloved home to begin preparations for what is to come.

“Sod off whoever you are.” His voice is uniquely abrading to me.

“Such an eloquent host you make, William the Bloody. Or do you still use that ridiculous moniker? What was it? Spike?” I must remind myself that I am here for a reason.

“Well, well, well… if it isn’t good old Drac,” His smugness is evident as he stands to face me. “Come to finally pay that eleven pounds you still owe me?”

“I am indeed here to pay my debt to you, though not the one you seek.”

“Well, it’s about time you…. Wait, what? What do you mean not the one I seek?” His childlike confusion amuses me. He is an easy fool to play... until he can finally summon his cunning faculties, that is.

“I will not debase myself by entertaining the fatuous pursuit of your eleven pounds. I am here to repay the debt owed for freeing me from my imprisonment at the hands of the Count de Saint-Germain.”

“Saint-Germain?” He appeared momentarily perplexed. “Saint-Germain… Now I remember! Alchemist… Played the violin. Better than Heifetz, too.”

“The same.” I nodded my head in acknowledgment. I would not have guessed him to be one who appreciated the arts. Perhaps there is more to him than meets the eye. “My effigy was a cage of his design in which he held me captive for 12 years.”

“That statue I smashed? Bloody hell, if I’d know you were inside it, I’d have dropped it off the coast instead.”

Perhaps he isn’t as foolish as he seems. Saint-Germain would still be alive had he contemplated the same idea.

“It would have been the wiser decision.” I acknowledge. “Perhaps time has instilled a measure of wisdom in you after all.”

“Yeah, well, wouldn’t be so sure,” His reply was full of self-deprecation. A quality I was not prepared for, given the future I’d seen. “If I had half a brain I’d put the Hellmouth in my tail lights and never look back.”

“And yet, you can not.” Time to execute my plan. “Because of her… the Slayer.”

My statement had certainly captured his attention. Then it was as I thought. The vision had not deceived me.

“What do you know about the slayer?” His anger was palpable. As always, a passionate one.

“I know that she is destined to die, plunging this world into darkness as it is overrun by an evil that even I can not stand against for long.”

His countenance betrayed his feelings more than any words he could have given voice to. Now was the time to pay my debt.

“But this does not have to be. There is hope. A way to change the course of destiny. And I can give this to you, as payment for the debt I owe you. A life for a life. Should you accept of your own free will, of course.”

He seemed to measure my offer for several moments. Time had indeed changed him. I had anticipated he would seize upon the offer without thought.

“What’s the catch?”

I could not completely contain my amusement.

“There is no catch,” He seemed to distrust my assertion. It is not entirely unearned. I have betrayed his confidence in the past. “But you are correct to think that I am not entirely altruistic in my offer.”

“Go on…”

“I am fond of this world. It is not without its flaws, but there is also beauty in it. And I have sworn an oath to protect my people. In the future that I have seen that is not possible. And we immortals still require blood to sustain us, if humanity is scoured from the earth…”

“No more immortality,” He completed my statement. “So how do I change it?”

“You follow your heart.”

“Somehow I doubt it’s as simple as that,” He answers. He is not wrong. It is far more complicated. But that is not his concern.

“Tell me, Spike, have you ever noticed, that there are certain… differences… between you and I, when our darkness takes control?”

I can tell he is thinking. I doubt that he has noticed. Not many do.

“You mean the showy Gypsy stuff?” He asks. Of course, he would think it was all illusions.

“What do you know of the history of our kind?”

“The usual tripe. Last demon mixed its blood with a human, creates a vampire.”

“Crude, and not incorrect, but somewhat incomplete.” I see that I have piqued his interest. “in the beginning there were many of our kind spread across the globe. But we were not all alike. Just as humans have variety, so too do we immortals. Once, the immortals of nearly every region had their own attributes. We shared many similarities, yes, but in some ways, we also diverged. Some having abilities and appearances not found in others. But as our kind were hunted, many of these became extinct. Leaving, like humans, only one predominant species.”

“Fascinating as that sounds, not sure I get where you’re going with it?”

I can’t help but smile. He still carries the impatience of youth.

“I am the last of my kind. My brides notwithstanding. I have certain… abilities… which your kind does not. Some are trivial, such as the fact that I do not have a demon face, unlike you. Some are quite beneficial, such as the fact that I can not be killed by merely being staked, as your slayer came to discover.”

“Buffy?” The name is a mere whisper, but my immortal ears hear it quite clearly.

“Alive,” I assure him. “I had thought to make her one of my brides, but I now know that can not happen if the darkness is to be averted. She is quite remarkable, you know?”

“Kicked your arse, did she?” His smile is smug and annoying. And correct.

“I confess, I have never engaged such a worthy slayer. But as you can see, I am not slain.” That seemed to make him less smug. “As I was saying… I am the last of my kind, but in payment of my debt, I offer to grant you some aspect of my abilities.”

“You can do that?”

“It is a simple matter.” In a manner of speaking. Also a painful one. “And it would grant you the ability to save your slayer, as well as this world.”

“How so?”

“When I tasted her, I saw the slayer’s immediate future.” I can feel his anger, as much as see it. This is good. His heart is already hers. “None the less, I foolishly tried to make her mine. But when she drank from me, I saw another possibility. A way to alter the future so that the darkness does not prevail and consume the earth.”

“And what’s this got to do with me?”

“You are the means by which this future can be changed. You and the slayer must join together if the forces of darkness are to be defeated.” In more than one way, but that will happen whether I grant him this gift or not. “Do you accept this gift of your own free will?”

“Just one problem with your plan, there. Slayer can’t stand me, and the feeling’s mutual.”

“You deny that you love her?” It is dangerous for an immortal to love a slayer, but it is not without precedent. Far from it, and I should know. In centuries past, slayers and immortals were drawn together as lovers, as surely as they are drawn together as enemies. Before the watchers, such as that pitiful waste of a human Van Helsing, exerted complete dominion over them, that is.

“No,” He answers like a petulant child caught in some mischief.

“Then you have nothing to fear. The slayer’s heart will soon enough belong to you as certainly as yours already belongs to her.”

“How you figure? That also in your vision?” He scoffs, and I nearly lose my temper before remembering that he is necessary.

“Yes. It was.” His shock is amusing enough to serve as a balm to his previous insult. Love makes fools of us all at some point.

As he stands in this crypt, an archaic reminder of a tradition I never embraced, contemplating my words, I contemplate the fact that he is to father the only hope of saving this world. I never took him as one to live among the dead, nor under the ground in tribute to the old ones. But then, I never thought he would make it beyond his first century either. I have underestimated him before. Hopefully, I underestimate him now as well.

“What do I do?” His words are soft but certain, belying a strength I sense hiding in him.

“A simple blood exchange.” And a channeling of magic like you’ve never known.

“That’s it?” He questions.

“Yes.” No, of course not.

“Right then. Let’s do this.”

“Of your own free will?”

“Yeah, yeah, my own free will.”

“As you wish.”

He holds out his arm in offering. I take it and am careless with the bite, ripping more flesh than necessary. After all, he has lived longer than any who vexed me even half as much, this is a small price. To his credit, he does not waver.

The blood I have taken mixes with my own as I gather the energies necessary. I offer my own wrist, and he takes it. He is also careless in his bite. He thinks he is repaying me in kind. I smile and thrust my other hand to his chest as he drinks from me, the enchantment falling from my lips as searing pain and light flow from me into him, magnified a hundred times as it courses through him. His screams would surely wake the dead all around us, but they are momentary. The enchantment finished, he collapses bonelessly to the floor, unconscious.

The young are always so trusting and eager. I may recognize that he is the key to saving this world. But that doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy a little requital.

“My debt is repaid to you.”

I leave him where he fell. My last directive filling the space as I depart.

“The world is now in your hands, Spike... Bring us Hope.”


	3. Chapter 2

_February 16, 2000_

This is going to take a lot more adjusting than I anticipated. Reading about these things in the Watcher’s diaries is one thing. Seeing them play out in real life is a whole other, far more confusing, and very awkward thing. I know he said I should prepare myself for seeing my parents, but it is so much more than that. And yes, he also told me it would be a lot more than that. But at this moment I just feel so… lost.

I came here with one mission, save the world. To do that, I have to change history. But, I can’t exactly just barge into the past and start changing everything that went wrong. First of all, how do I even decide what did or didn’t go wrong? If I change too much history, I could make things even worse, I know that. I knew it before they sent me here. Which is why I asked him what it is I’m supposed to fix. But all he would say in his usual cryptic way was, “Speranta, when the time comes, you will know that which you are destined to do.” Sometimes I really wish he would just come out and say things without all the doublespeak. But, I guess he wouldn’t be him if he did. Still, what if I end up saving some kid who turns out to be the next Hitler?

That’s the hardest part. I wasn’t even here more than a few days before people were already dying. Innocent people. Young people. And I knew it was going to happen. When I woke up with no voice, I knew it was the Gentlemen. I knew they would get at least four hearts before she stopped them. I knew how to kill them. I even knew in general where the hearts came from. Two of the hearts came from kids at the local college, one from a 15-year-old girl, and one from a 19-year-old. I knew she’d defeat them the second night, but I figured that maybe I could at least save one or two of the kids they kill while she figures out where they are hiding.

After all, I might as well do some good while I’m here. It’s not exactly in me to sit by and let people die. Still, saving them proved harder than I thought it would. I can’t be everywhere at once, and the creeps went out in three different teams at the same time. Which made it damn hard to save four random kids in this town. In fact, I only managed to save one of them, the 19-year-old walking home from her grandparents. I was on the way to the college to see if I could save the second kid there but I was already too late. I knew where they were going, and what was waiting for them, so I headed off to see if I couldn’t reroute some of the initiative’s goon squad.

Now those guys make my blood boil. That’s another thing I didn’t anticipate. I knew they would be here when I arrived, but I didn’t anticipate how angry it would make me watching them treat the local demons like animals. No, worse than animals. People don’t generally treat animals like these guys treat demons. They go out night after night, taking anything non-human that crosses their path, and laughing about their terrified “catch” on the way back to their base. As if they are so much better. I know a lot of demons with better morals than them.

It’s one thing to know your mother is a slayer, charged with hunting and killing demons like your father. That’s destiny. There’s a sort of symmetry to it, the slayer maintaining the balance in this world. Maybe that’s another reason why The First Evil and its demons were able to take over. Sure, The First Evil claimed that resurrecting my mother is what tipped the scale, but I don’t think that was it. If it was all about her, then her death the following year would have balanced things out, right? No, I think the initiative’s actions all over the world disrupted the balance too much. Humans weren’t meant to take demons out on that sort of scale. You tip the scales too far and the whole thing goes to hell. Pretty much literally.

So I do what I can. I’ve been hunting the hunters, trying to prevent them from taking any more of the passive demons. It’s a fun little challenge to get the innocent ones out of the way without the goon squad noticing me, and it frustrates the little boys with their big toys to go back empty-handed. Though, I’ve had to intensify my veil a bit. I initially didn’t account enough for the extra energy of the Hellmouth fueling the demon’s senses around here because a couple of them were picking up on what I am and it’s kind of hard to save someone when they’re running away from you. Besides, demons are notorious gossips and if too many rumors get around about a real live dhampir, things could get ugly fast and I can’t finish the mission if I’m too busy saving my own skin.

And then there’s him. The soldier boy my mother dated. I wasn’t sure how I would feel seeing them together. I guess I thought it wouldn’t bother me since I know it’s temporary and that eventually, she falls in love with my father. (If you believe what Aunt Tara and bunu' told me anyway, which I do.) I’m just not sure how that happens. I mean, I’ve seen them around each other and honestly, it’s confusing as hell. The gifting happens in only seven months from now, but I don’t think they even like each other at this point.

Honestly, I really have no idea what these people are doing. And what’s worse? I don’t think they do either! Aunt Willow is still just now starting to dig into her power, and Aunt Tara. Uncle Xander is delivering pizza? Aunt Anyanka seems to just be sort of hanging around. My mother is attending college while slaying and trying to date. My father is all over the place. One day he’s at Gile’s flat. The next he’s at Uncle Xander’s. Then he’s back at the flat. Then at Uncle Xander’s again. I mean, what the hell were they doing? At least now he’s set himself up at the crypt. It’s like they are all just wandering around running into things. Where’s the mission? The vision? Where’s the team focused on surviving and saving as many humans as they can? These people don’t seem like the same ones I grew up with at all.

And Giles? He is and isn’t the man who raised me. He seems lost, too. Still, I don’t think I’ve ever laughed so hard in my life as I did last week. He definitely left a few things out of his diaries because there is absolutely nothing in them about him turning into a Fyarl demon. I can see the pages in my head as plain as day where he wrote about the Initiative taking Ethan Rayne into custody for sorcery, but he didn’t mention that the guy turning him into a Fyarl is what got him taken. And hearing him speak Fyarl was so bloody hilarious! To think, I got a front row seat to it all when first he and then mom came crashing into the guy’s room. Even three doors down I could feel the dark power rolling off the guy all week, but I didn’t think he had anything to do with the mission, so I ignored it. I guess it just goes to show that everything that happens in this town is related. I’ll have to remember that moving forward.

I managed to save a little boy a couple of days ago. It wasn’t really part of the mission, it’s just some random kid, but it felt like the right thing to do. Which is why I’m currently holed up waiting for this damn hole in my side to heal. I remembered that the dates lined up with when that crazy cyborg thing escapes the Initiative and kills a little boy. It may not be all polgara, but it’s enough that I can track it. I barely got there in time, and let me say the thing wasn’t happy I stopped it from dissecting the kid, hence the skewer to the gut. It’s also wicked strong, which I knew because in a few months from now it’ll take all of them to do an insanely dangerous spell calling on the powers of all the previous slayers so my mother can kill it. Still, its strength took me by surprise. But I think I also took it by surprise, so there is that. Maybe the polgara part of it picked up on what I am? I didn’t have time to be careful with the veil and it took off pretty quick after the shish kabobing, while mumbling something about an unclassified species.

Still, none of it compares to seeing them. I always wondered what they were really like. I have the diaries and the stories I heard growing up, but I never knew how much of it was true and how much was made up to make a little girl feel better about her dead mother. Or how much was made up to make a little girl feel ok with the fact that her father was killed by the man who was raising her, with some strategic help from Connor’s dad, supposedly to protect said little girl. I still wonder if that’s why that magic amulet never did do whatever it was supposed to during the battle of the Hellmouth. Maybe it was some kind of karma. I guess it depends on who you believe when it comes to my father.

She looks so young. I mean they all do, but especially her. Yes, she looks just like the one picture I had, but it’s different seeing her in person. And she’s strong. I knew that too, all slayers are, but seeing her fight makes me feels strangely proud. She’s a force to be reckoned with. I almost wish I could take her on, just to see how strong she really is and what it would be like. She’s driven, but she’s still trying to enjoy the world. Still trying for something normal. Most slayers are all about the mission. They teach you growing up that the mission is what matters. They aren’t wrong, but it isn’t all that matters. Without love and family, the mission has no meaning. Honestly, I think that’s why slayers don’t last long. Or dhampir for that matter. With nothing tangible to live for, it’s easy to give up and let go. I know I almost did after they took Thomas from me.

That’s when he found me, gransfather that is, and put me back together. That’s also when I really began to question whether the stories of my father had been true at all. If my Thomas could love so deeply… if bloody Dracula could care for an entire people for centuries and love a couple of slayers and a potential enough to produce children… if untold scores of demon clans can love so well… and there are so many others I have read about that truly loved… surely my father loved my mother as bunu' said. Surely, he loved me?

He looks different from what I pictured in my mind. Reading his history in the diaries and hearing the stories, he always seemed larger than life. He fought and killed slayers. He helped destroy entire villages. He seemed like the kind of vampire that deserved to die. A rabid thing that forgot its humanity and needed to be put down. I’ve killed hundreds, maybe thousands, of such creatures. But not all of them are so feral. Many remember their lives and their loved ones. They can learn to tame their demon, like my beautiful Thomas. Like me.

I know Gile’s thought that the only thing controlling my father was the behavior modification chip implanted by the Initiative. But he also didn’t think vampires could love. Which is the stupidest shite I’ve ever heard. I don’t know why they choose to believe that tripe. It must be some flaw in their human brain. Or their ego’s. I see my father already helping them, but I also see how alone he is. The demons hate him because he is helping my mother. The humans hate him because he’s a demon. He can’t fully be either human or demon and neither will accept him. I know how he feels.

I’ve seen him fight demons and like my mother, it is something to behold. Even from a distance, I can see what made him so formidable and why they feared him, even with the chip. Like her, it isn’t something they do, it is something they are. I have seen many vampires and a few slayers and potentials fight over the years, but for most of them, it isn’t like this. This is something that flows from them. There is skill, yes, but something more. Their power is a living and breathing part of them. Part of me wants to engage him to see what he’s capable of, but it would be hard to really dive into the fight knowing he is my father and that the precious little time I have now is the only time I will ever get to see or know him. On the other hand, it would be one hell of a memory to have, wouldn’t it?

Part of me wants to run to them. To hug them and tell them who I am. I want to really get to know them as they are, not just from stories. This being on the outside looking in is almost unbearable. To have them so close, and still be so far away from them. I want to warn them. Tell them of the things to come. But if I do that, who knows what will happen. I can’t kill all their enemies or fight all their battles for them. These are things that made them who they were. Don’t get me wrong, there are those I need to kill and I will; but I have to be smart about it. And I have to remain here, alone, on the outside no matter how much that little girl just wants to have her parents hold her.

And if you are reading this, bunu', you were right. But I wouldn’t trade it for the world, at least not the world we know. Don’t worry, I know my mission and I will figure it out. I have to. For them, and for Thomas, and for all the ones we’ve lost. The mission matters, but it matters so much more now because it’s not just for the world, it’s for them. They gave me life. It’s my turn to return the favor.


	4. Chapter 3

_March 10th, 2002_

The slayer came crashing into his crypt, as usual, with no knocking or announcement. Just kicked the door open so hard it rebounded off the adjacent wall and tried to snap shut again. He ignored her, as usual, not wanting to feed into whatever it was that currently had her knickers in a twist. Unless she was here to let him relieve her of said knickers. It could happen, right?

“How’d the wedding go? Happy couple off to Motel 6 for their honeymoon?” He figured some small talk couldn’t hurt.

She’d hauled him out of his chair and pinned him against the wall with one hand while the other held a stake against his chest before he’d even twigged onto her intent.

“What did you do to me?” Her eyes had a murderous look to them and his sense of self-preservation kicked in quickly.

“Buffy… I can explain,” He calmly asserted, despite the rather disconcerting feel of the pointy end of her stake pushing just hard enough to break the skin.

She stared intently at him. Probably trying to figure out if he was sincere or lying, or sincerely lying.

As quickly as she’d hauled him up, she dropped him. She didn’t move away any though. She simply crossed her arms and started tapping her toe, waiting for him to answer. Problem was, he had no idea what she was going on about.

“Well?” She ground out the word like it was gravel in her teeth.

“Well… it might help if you told me what it is I’m supposed to explain.” He answered cautiously, hands up in surrender.

“Like you don’t know?” She gave him a vicious snarl before tossing her hands up in exasperation and then started pacing back and forth in front of him. “At first I just thought it was me and all the Doublemeat specials when that god awful dress didn’t want to zip. But no, you had to go and tell me how I was glowing. That should have been my first clue!”

She rounded on him again.

“What is it? A spell of some sort? A glamour? Something to make me feel even more horrible and guilty?”

“Buffy? Did something happen?” He asked, clearly confused. He still hadn’t a clue what had her so wound up.

“Well, that’s the question, now, isn’t it?” She was now closing in on him again, her stake held at chest level, pushing him back until he hit the wall. “What did you do?”

“Tell you what.. Buffy…” He gave her a nervous smile, hoping to defuse the situation a little, as he oh so gently pushed the stake away from his chest an inch or two. “Luv… You tell me what you think I did, and I’ll help you fix whatever it is?”

He looked up to meet her eyes briefly, still smiling nervously, and then returned his watchful gaze to the stake still pointing with deadly aim at his heart.

And then suddenly she was four feet away with her back turned to him. It took him only a couple of seconds to catch the scent of tears and notice the subtle shaking of her shoulders.

“Buffy?” He wanted to reach out to her, but with the way she was all over the place, he wasn’t sure if it would make things better or worse.

“How could you do that to me?” The soft question was followed by sniffles, making the urge to gather her up in his arms even stronger.

He vacillated a moment. If he did, she might spin on him and carry through with her stake to the chest. Or she might let him hold her and try to help her with whatever had her so out of sorts. Deciding that the more likely scenario was probably, hopefully, the latter one, he put a cautious hand on her upper arm and gently turned her towards him and folded his arms around her. He softly shushed her tears, like one might console a frightened child after a nightmare.

After several minutes, her tears seemed to slow and he wondered if she was ever going to tell him what had brought all this on. Finally, with a sniffle, she pulled herself free from him and stepped away, curling her arms around herself. She kept her eyes trained on the floor as she seemed to work up the courage to say something.

“I know I... hurt you… but to make me think I’m… I never would have thought you would do something so…” She clammed up, folding into herself even more.

“Christ, Buffy!” He was getting beyond frustrated. Figuring out Dru’s rambling madness was easier than trying to piece together whatever it was that she wasn’t saying. “Look… don’t stake me for saying this, but I haven’t a clue what it is you’re going on about. Just what is it you think I’ve done?”

Her eyes finally came up to meet his, and for a moment he considered that maybe silence would have been the better choice. If looks could stake, he’d be dust on the floor right about now.

“You made me think somehow that I’m pregnant,” The words dripped with venom like none he’d heard from her before. “How? How did you do it?”

All he could do was stare at her. That’s what this was all about? She thought he worked some sort of magic or something on her to…

“You think I would do something like that?” He couldn’t stop the question from flying. He’d done some pretty vile things in the past, but for her to think he would do something like that. To her!

“Didn’t you?” She raised her chin in defiance.

“You’re completely off your bird!” He answered with equal defiance. “Why would you think that I would…?” He left the question hanging. “That’s what this is all about?”

Suddenly, she looked a whole lot less sure of herself, and it made him angry enough he could squeeze her neck until her head popped right off her shoulders.

“I can’t believe that you think that I would… Yes, it hurts. You bloody well ripped my heart out of my chest and crushed it into the ground like so much dust! Staking me would have been kinder! But to think that I would resort to magic? To make you think you’re…?”

He was practically vibrating with angry and indignant energy. He had a mind to really light into her but at the moment he was so angry he couldn’t even think of the words, and the silence stretched between them for long agonizing minutes as they stared each other down, neither of them willing to give any ground.

“I took a test, Spike,” She finally insisted with less fire, but still angry. “It came out positive!”

“Well don’t look at me, Slayer! Vampire, remember?” Now he was not only angry, he was pissed off and hurt even more. “You’re up the duff, Slayer, it sure as hell isn’t because of anything I did!”

If it was possible, she looked even more angry at him now.

“It can’t be anyone else, Spike! It has to be you!” She was almost shouting at him.

He laughed. He couldn’t help it. This was so ridiculous it was beginning to border on the absurd. Maybe it was a trick of some sort. Have a laugh at his expense? Play a round of kick the Spike while he’s down?

“You know, I’ve taken a lot of piss these last few months; but this really takes the cake, Slayer.” He turned away from her, trying to hide how much this whole thing was getting to him. Hadn’t she done enough already?

“I don’t…” Her voice was quiet behind him. She even almost made it sound like she was genuinely confused. “You mean… you didn’t do something? To make me think I’m… Oh, god…”

It was the “oh, god” that got him. She really was laying it on thick. He laughed again. A bitter and humorless laugh that wrenched itself from deep inside him. He’d never have thought she’d be this cruel.

“I… I don’t understand. This can’t be happening! I’m really...? Oh, god…”

He couldn’t help it. That last bit got him. His anger flared again and he turned to face her.

“You really are off your bird! You actually believe the things you’re saying?” He asked, incredulous. “Cause I’m pretty sure anyone with half a brain stopped believing in vampire induced pregnancies back in the.. dark... age………. Oh, bloody hell….”

Her head snapped up to look at him, the clear question in her eyes, and he suddenly found himself once again at a loss for words.

A million thoughts were now running amok in his head, and he started nervously pacing as he tried to tease them all apart. Could it be? He’d forgotten about that night practically the next day, assuming the old codger had tried to pull one over on him. Simple blood exchange? Right! And the equivalent of a magical roofie to knock him out. He’d supposed the old boy had a good laugh at his expense, carrying on about different vampire races and gifts and… wait a tick… one way to find out…

“Stake me.” He looked squarely at her and issued the order.

“What?” Clearly, he’d thrown her off-kilter.

“Stake me!” He put a little more emphasis into enunciating each word.

“Stake you? What? No!” Suddenly, she was starting to back away from him.

He took the two paces necessary to close the gap and grabbed the hand holding the stake. He brought it up to his chest and then dropped his hands, repeating the order.

“Stake me!”

She looked at him like he’d clearly lost his mind, and dropped the stake. Maybe he had lost his mind. He looked down, searching for the dropped stake, and then reached to grab for it. She must have sussed out what he was doing because she tried to kick it away, but he managed to grab it, taking the blow in stride and letting the momentum carry him up and around, and impaling himself with the stake before she could intervene.

He saw her eyes go wide and she reached for the stake as he drove it home, the desperate cry of his name was the last thing heard as he closed his eyes and waited.

After a few seconds, he chanced to crack open one eye. He looked down at his chest and saw the stake protruding from it. And for some reason, he wasn’t dust. He looked up at Buffy, who was also staring at the stake, her hands covering her mouth did nothing to conceal her shock.

They both stood there like that for who knows how long. Unbelieving eyes staring at the embedded stake as if they were two statues frozen in one terrible moment in time. And then the pain got the better of him, and he reached to pull the damned thing out.

“Spike, no!” She screamed and reached to seize his hand to stop it. “You… you must have missed. You might…” 

“Didn’t miss.” He looked solemnly down at the thing still protruding from his chest. He had definitely hit the mark.

“But I don’t… How?” The question was barely audible.

He jerked the stake free and covered the hole with his hand, and sank to the ground. The old fellow had done it. Somehow he’d managed to give him some of his unique powers. Drac was the only vampire he knew that didn’t dust from a simple staking. No, you had to put in the extra effort to stake him and behead him at the same time, and even then according to lore it still wasn’t a guarantee you’d actually killed him unless you also burned the heart.

But was it all true? Were the old legends just romanticized rubbish to explain away the natural consequences of bored teenagers, and poorly planned trysts, or was it possible there was some truth behind them?

He looked up to see that Buffy had followed him down and was sitting across from him, still clearly in shock, her mouth gaping at the hole in his chest, or well the hand covering the hole in his chest. And from somewhere inside him a laugh rolled up. It turned into a very unmanly, bordering on hysterical, giggle that he seemed powerless to stop until it hurt too much to carry on, and he slumped to his side on the ground, a terrible wheeze of air rushing out of him with a cough as a couple of tears spilled from his eyes unchecked.

And then the pain started to subside and he watched as the hole closed in on itself. A few seconds later there was nothing more than an angry red mark when the hole had been, and he laughed again.

Until Buffy reached forward with tentative fingers to touch the spot. No sooner had she just grazed the flesh, she jerked her hand away as if it had burned. But then she reached again, and he held his breath, bathing in the moment as she gently laid her palm over his unbeating heart and stared as if she’d witnessed a bloody miracle.

“How?” Was all she could seem to muster.

How indeed. He didn’t know if any of what the blighter had said or done was true. But based on the impromptu, and painful, experiment it was. Which meant…

He reached forward, slowly. His hand inching its way toward her. He glanced up at her, only able to put his question into his face because words were once again failing him. They seemed to be failing her too, as all she could do was watch his hand as it continued its journey until it rested against her abdomen. Was it possible? Was she really carrying his child? Half human, half vampire? A human heart and soul with all of his strengths, and none of his weaknesses?

The implications hit him like a ton of bricks, as Drac’s words suddenly made their way back into his consciousness. He’d never thought of them again after she’d been resurrected. She was destined to die, but he could give him a gift that could change it all. All he had to do was follow his heart. Well, he’d certainly done that. And now…

He could feel it. A tiny spark of something reaching out and connecting to the hand still covering her abdomen. If he concentrated very hard, he could even hear the tiny flutter of a heart beating at a rapid clip twice the pace of Buffy’s. Emotions choked off his throat as he tried to muster words.

“Spike?” Her trembling voice asked, her question clear.

He tried again for words, not finding what seemed like the right ones, or able to will his blasted throat to form them. Until finally he managed to clear his throat enough to utter a single sentence as he earnestly sought her eyes, hoping to make her understand somehow what this meant. 

“Buffy... there’s a heartbeat.”


	5. Chapter 4

_May 4, 2000_

These people are definitely keeping me on my toes. It is getting harder and harder to work in the shadows and not be seen. I do have one advantage though, these people never, ever, look up. Except my mother when she is trying to kiss soldier boy. They are such a mismatch. Anyway, I keep to the rooftops a lot, following and waiting to see when an opportunity might show up. I have done little things here and there, but so far nothing seems to be anything that would alter the course of history.

Speaking of history, I got to see Faith. The diaries are kind of sparse on information about when she woke up from the coma. Not much more than dates and the fact that the watchers sent a wetworks team, and the body switch. I’m glad that the commando unit was one of the things the new Council left in the dust. They knew they couldn’t afford to even consider taking down a rogue slayer. Not when so many potentials had already been taken out before the battle even began, much less during it. When Faith was killed in the battle of the Hellmouth, it temporarily threw everything Slayer into chaos. Who knows how many of those potentials were briefly slayers during the Battle. To imagine...the power jumping from person to person as each one was called, only to fall moments later? Eventually, some girl in the Congo was called that day, effectively ending the chaos and the battle. Only two potentials made it out with the rest of the team that was topside.

The watchers wrote of Faith as an almost cautionary tale. But honestly, I think it was a huge failing on the part of the Council. Faith wasn’t the first girl to ever be called who came from crummy circumstances. Sometimes the Council helps them, and sometimes they just wait for them to die, while pointing her at the nearest demons. I’m pretty sure that was the plan with Faith. Of course, being Faith she didn’t seem to do what anyone else expected her to do, and it kept her alive for 4 years. That’s more than a lot of slayers can say. The diaries say she turned, but people don’t just turn one day. Slayers don’t just wake up and decide to fight for the bad guys, they get driven there. I’ve read every watcher diary I could get my hands on, and I’ve read Faith’s story dozens of times, just with different names and dates. At least she got a chance to make it right. I know she tried. It’s hard to fault anyone who went into the battle of the Hellmouth trying to save the world, and she did more than most toward that end.

All that being said, I can see the attitude and determination that were her greatest strengths once she learned how to use them, and her biggest weaknesses before she did. She’s not as good a strategist on the fly but makes up for it in sheer effort. Watching her fight mom was definitely interesting. Wish I’d been able to capture some of it to study their contrasting styles. Faith is more shock and awe. Her perception is possibly a little more developed than mom’s, but she hasn’t learned to use it to her advantage yet.

Once they switched bodies it got really interesting. I followed Faith since there were big holes of time in Gile’s writings about what she did and I wanted to get a better idea of what she was really like. I’ve learned since I’ve been here that despite being very verbose, the diaries didn’t capture a lot of things. Anyway, there was a lot of information on mom being held by the wetworks, and her escape, so I knew she’d be ok. Faith was an unknown entity. I have to say, the girl can party. She was all over the club and every guy in it. Granted, I’d probably be doing the same thing after nine months of sleeping.

I’m glad I did follow her because I got my first glimpse of the spark my father’s had for my mother. Don’t get me wrong, any guy in the room would have had a stiffy with the way she was teasing him. But there was more to it than lust and anger. I’m not saying that isn’t a bad mix on occasion, but watching his reactions as she said all that was… interesting. Kind of hard to explain it. He wasn’t angry until she walked away. Something is definitely there. It’s almost like he had to regroup just to be angry. Like I said, interesting.

Watching her walk into soldier boy’s dorm, that caught me off guard. That certainly didn’t make it into the diaries. Being a wind-up is one thing. Getting a leg over soldier boy while in mom’s body was just ruthless. Gave me a little more context for how she can up and torture her watcher. She obviously could have been rehabilitated years earlier if they’d bothered to approach her right. It says a lot that it was a vampire who figured that out.

The magic potential around here is staggering. There’s a little fellow that clearly could have been an asset if anyone trained him. They are all dangling over a Hellmouth and yet there isn’t a single real coven locally to find and train anyone. Talk about a missed opportunity of untapped potential! Between the malevolent spirits, the demons, the sorcery, and the plain old kitchen witches, It’s a wonder no one ever came over all apocalyptic dark side.

I opted to chase the goon squad around during the shagfest saga. Figured adding my energy to that scene was probably the last thing they needed. It has also become obvious the cyborg thing is motivating the more dangerous demons. Why else would they willingly jump into the path of the Initiative so willingly? And why didn’t mom and the others see it way earlier? Should have flagged when the demons were avoiding the Slayer in favor of facing potential vivisection. At least they are keeping the squads busy, which is good for the peaceful demons. The smart ones seem to sense what’s about to go down and are laying low.

My father is still all over the place. He’s at the club, he’s in the caves, he’s in the crypt, he’s at Giles. It’s like he’s lost and looking for something. One moment he’s trying to help, the next he’s doing something boneheaded. I have to keep reminding myself that he’s only had the behavior chip a few months. It’s essentially taken away what he’s been doing his whole life, and adaptation is a process, usually. You don’t just get shocked into changing everything. Just like Slayers get driven to going rogue, vampires generally get driven to change as well. Sure, some rise as just a demon-animated version of their former selves; but most that rise relish the hunger, and are driven to rid themselves of any reminders of their humanity. It takes something extraordinary to make them regain any sense of it.

And that’s another thing. The vampire’s around here are some of the laziest I’ve ever seen. There are only a few nests around town. Sire’s don’t wait for their fledges. None of them are teaching the new ones. It’s like Lord of the Flies, but less organized. Considering The Master was stuck here for decades, you’d think the local vampires would be a little educated on the traditions and lore and into teaching those they’ve sired. Nope. Not at all. Then again, given the sheer numbers, I guess it’s good they aren’t. If they had ever gotten properly organized Sunnydale would have been their town long before The First took it.

There’s also a couple of vampire nest’s doing their best to keep off the radar. There’s a suck house, naturally, and more butcher’s shops than makes any sense at all in a town this size. And none of the butchers bat an eye at blood orders. Some seem to think they can only live on human blood and tend to go for easy targets like the slappers or the blood bank deliveries. I’ve been able to pick up a bit of dosh by protecting the incoming blood shipments from getting raided by the locals.

My mother is currently out of town. Went to LA to make sure Angelus was safe from Faith. In the meantime, soldier boy is brooding over at the school and licking his wounds. A few days from now is the big showdown with the cyborg demon. Thank the gods Gile’s writings were pretty detailed about the initiative schematics. I plan to get in and see if I can’t get some of the human’s out. Most of them deserve about as much mercy as they show the demons in their cells, but from Giles descriptions of everything he saw, some of those people probably died in ways no one deserves. There will be enough chaos going on that I doubt anyone is going to stop and wonder which team of humans I’m with. My mother’s team will assume I’m with the Initiative. The Initiative will assume I’m with mom’s team. The demon’s that are there won’t care, either way, they’re just in it for the carnage.

It’ll be a hell of a fight and honestly, I can’t wait. I grew up training and fighting from the moment I could walk practically. Of course, Giles and the others also taught me the art of balancing the physical and the mental. Still, when you’re living in a world that’s getting taken over by The First and it’s demon hordes, fighting is a part of life. You get good and you get smart, or you get dead. I love the peace here, it is all still beautiful and alive and comparatively calm. But a part of me really craves the fight and I miss the challenge. Giles and the others always made it seem like I should be ashamed of that. It’s what they trained me to do, not to mention I’m half vampire for god’s sake! What did they expect?

Ok, to be fair, they didn’t know what to expect at all. Which is weird in my opinion. Average people, I expect to assume people like me and Connor were just myths. But these people are watchers! When I was growing up, Giles said they really had nothing on dhampir other than lore. Grandfather said that the watchers destroyed all records of dhampir they could find in order to prevent Slayers from understanding their power and to have more control over them. It’s easier to kill everything if you think it’s just a rabid animal that needs to be put down. I guess it’s a good thing some of demonkind was just as meticulous to keep track of things and protecting the ancient texts.

It’s a shame more of the peaceful demons and the humans didn’t work together more to fight against The First. It probably wouldn’t have won the war in the end, but it might have won a few more battles and there would probably still be a heck of lot more humans and demons still alive if they had. You can’t fight the enemy if you’re too busy fighting someone else just because that’s the way it’s always been done.

But hopefully, if this all works out, I’ll figure out what it is I’m here to do and all of these people and demons running around in blissful ignorance will get to continue living their lives that way. Maybe that’ll even include my parents. I don’t think I can be here and let them die the way they did. Neither of them deserved to die like that. But then, maybe that’s what I’m here to prevent? Only time will tell.


	6. Chapter 5

_April 30, 2002_

She'd reacted to the revelation about as well as he'd thought she would if he'd had time to think about it. Which is to say, not well at all. There'd been denial, followed by anger. Then a demand for answers about how he'd magicked himself, followed by more anger. Confusion, accusation, anger, and oh yeah, more anger. Kept asking him how could he have not told her he could get her pregnant. Seemed to have serious difficulty understanding that he didn't know what Drac had done to him. Hadn't thought he'd done anything to him at all other than rip a chunk out of his arm before blindsiding him with what felt like the magic equivalent of being hit by a train.

Eventually, she settled down and stopped trying to get him to admit he'd done it all on purpose and given him a chance to go over the whole crazy thing one more time before she just up and left the crypt. He'd gone after her, of course. Told her they needed to talk, now more than ever. She'd told him to give her time. That she just needed to figure it all out. He'd known the whole "destined to die" thing had thrown her, so he had. Given her time, that is. And she'd not so much as even patrolled his cemetery since. 

He'd eventually caught up with her at Shady Acres a few weeks ago. He'd been wearing a rut in the floor of his crypt wondering how and if she was dealing with everything. The longer she avoided him, the worse it got. Sprog or no, her head was not in a space to deal with her mates, much less anything else. And truth be known he was worried this would push her over the edge and they'd all be putting her in the ground again. So out he went again and again until he finally caught her. If he hadn't found her, he’d planned to camp at the magic shop until she eventually showed just to reassure himself she was ok. She hadn't offered much except that she was still trying to figure everything, so he hadn't prodded further. 

And then there'd been the whole thing with the Glargabullgashmanick. He'd been so angry with her for not telling any of her mates. God knows what was in that sludge Red had cooked up, but as long as it made her better, he could deal with anything that happened.

And then she'd finally come round one night and told him she'd told the whole crew of scoobies the entire ins and outs of their sordid little relationship. When she said she'd decided to keep the nipper, he'd been gobsmacked. He hadn't anticipated that. Figured even if she didn’t decide it herself, everyone would have convinced her otherwise. Then she told him that they'd called the watcher and old Rupes would be here in two days to give everything a proper sorting.

Which is why he was currently sitting in Buffy's living room with Rupert glaring at him like some overbearing father who'd caught him in flagrante delicto with his daughter.

“Let’s go over it one more time.”

“For Christ’s sake,” He threw his arms up as he sat back in the chair and stared at the ceiling. “It hasn’t changed the last dozen times I told you. What could possibly make you think that this time is the one where I suddenly just mix it all up?”

“I-I’m sorry, Spike, but I just find it all entirely too preposterous. I-I mean, it flies in the face of everything we’ve known for centuries.”

“Look, last time I'm saying this, so get it through that thick skull of yours, yeah?” He was trying really, very, hard to remain calm. Wouldn’t do to give the watcher a reason to stake him, or Buffy a reason to cut him out completely. “All I know is, Drac showed up at my crypt one night. Says he’d tasted her and that somehow he’d seen her future because of it. Said she was destined to die and some evil would consume the world because of it. But, when she tasted him,” He looked over at Buffy, “Still can’t believe he talked you into that,” He rolled his eyes as he turned back to the watcher. “He saw a way to change it. Said a bunch of stuff about vampire breeds being all different at one point, different aspects, and he could give me some of his. That it would help me save the slayer, and hence the world.”

“But he didn’t tell you how it would help you do that?”

“Not a whit,” He answered.

“And he didn’t tell you what aspects he would give you?”

“No, for the hundredth time. Just said he would. Be a simple blood transfer,” He scoffed at that. “Then blindsided me with a busload of magic. Knocked me out until the next day. Came to assuming he’d just been trying to get inside my head and didn’t think about it again after that. Not until two months ago when she shows up demanding to know why I’d done some magic to make her think she was in the pudding club.”

“Exactly how many euphemisms do you know for the word ‘pregnant’?” Buffy asked him with an adorable frown on her face.

He gave her a wicked grin and was set to give her a rundown when he remembered it was her that he'd been referring to, so he redirected his attention back to the watcher.

“So, y-you had no idea at all that you’d become impervious to stakes, or c-could father a child?”

“Haven’t exactly been going out on the pull or asking random people to stake me. Tend to avoid getting staked as a rule.” He gave the man a pointed glare.

“And he didn’t say how any of that was supposed to stop whatever evil was going to consume the earth?”

“No!” He really wanted to throttle the man for being so dense. “He didn’t say what aspect he’d give, or how to use it, or what the evil was, or how Buffy dies,” He had to pause to swallow a sudden lump in his throat, “Or when, or how any of it works, or anything else.”

“But the child is human?”

“Heart and soul. Had one of those ultrasound thingamajigs to confirm,” He answered resolutely. Best make sure he understands that right off. “And Glinda did some divination something or other for good measure.”

“But how can a demon create a human child? It’s just all a bit too much to ask anyone to believe.”

“And what exactly are you proposing is the alternative?” He challenged him.

Giles relaxed back into the couch, pinched the bridge of his nose and seemed to contemplate that for several moments.

“At the moment I don’t really have an alternative,” He finally answered.

He looked at Buffy, his question on his face. They’d discussed asking Giles about this before he’d arrived. She nodded quickly and looked down.

“Now, let me ask you a question?” He directed his query to the man. “What does your Watcher’s Council know about dhampir, and do any of them know about Buffy?”

The watcher at first gave him a confused look, and then leaned forward again and gave him an expression that said he clearly thought they’d all gone sack of hammers on him.

“You can’t be serious?” Giles asked. “Dhampir are nothing more than elaborate rumors. Stories created to protect some poor girl's virtue by pinning an unplanned pregnancy as the work of a vampire.”

“You mean, like Buffy’s pregnancy?” He pointedly asked.

“Yes, w-well, that’s a bit different…” Giles stammered out.

“How you figure? Can’t dismiss it, so it must be true in her case?” He replied with no small amount of sarcasm coloring his voice.

“Point taken,” The man conceded. “But even if that were the case, there haven’t been any such claims in at least a century. The council has declared them to be nothing more than a hoax.”

“Pretty certain this isn’t a hoax,” Buffy chimed in.

“Indeed,” Giles agreed. “I will see what I can find, as discreetly as possible. I have not yet informed the council of anything, and at the moment I have no plans to do so. Certainly not until we know more. There may be a-a prophecy or some other explanation we need to consider. In the interim, Buffy,” Giles turned his attention to her. “The safety of both you and the child are of the utmost importance. Y-you should know that a gravid slayer isn’t unprecedented.”

“It’s not?” Buffy’s question seemed to be equal parts curiosity and relief.

“No, not at all,” Giles answered. “It is very uncommon, but it does happen from time to time.” He seemed to be letting that thought sink in as he worked up to something else. “Which is why I am saying that your safety is paramount.”

“And what aren't you saying?” He asked him. Feeling a sense of dread starting to creep in again.

“Buffy,” Giles ignored him and directed his response to her. “Having previously died twice already, you know better than most the dangers inherent to being a slayer. As much as it pains me to say it, the children born to slayers are, in general, orphaned at quite a young age. Now, I have complete faith that if anyone can defy expectations, it is certainly you. However, you may want to strongly consider giving the child up for adoption. Or at the very least, making arrangements in the event of your u-untimely… d-death.” Giles finished with a frown as he glanced down at his glasses, held in his left hand.

“Not going to happen!” He answered with a predatory growl as he stood up and looked down at Giles. “I’ll drink deep from the church font before I let her die again.”

To his credit, old Rupes didn’t bat an eye. He slowly stood up and gave him a stony look. “I don’t believe that you have any say in what happens to Buffy, or her child.”

“Right now, watcher, I don’t give two shit’s if that babe ever takes a breath. I'd say get rid of it now, and take her myself, if I knew it meant Buffy stayed alive.” He hoped the man understood how serious he was. “I can’t stand by and… I just can’t,” He gravely finished.

“And therein lies the problem, Spike,” Giles replied. “Your infatuation has achieved remarkably dangerous levels and put Buffy at grave risk. You have no soul to guide your actions. Do you honestly believe that if Buffy were to die and leave her child behind, that you could possibly nurture or guide that child in any appropriate way at all?”

“Giles,” Buffy cautioned him.

“No, Buffy, I’m completely serious.” Giles turned and looked at her. “My recollection of lore regarding vampire offspring, if indeed that is what this child is, may be rather sparse but I do recall that they were thought to have a propensity for turning towards evil. Spike’s involvement could only serve to increase those odds.”

“Seemed good enough for you lot last summer!” He countered.

“Yes, and we all know that sitting a teenager for a couple of hours is completely comparable to raising a child from birth,” Giles answered, obviously annoyed.

“I would never…” He started to reply.

“You have no soul, Spike.” Giles interrupted. “Nothing to guide you but that chip in your head. How could you possibly hope to influence the child in any other way?”

His brain was starting to twinge repeated little jolts as he considered all the things he wanted to do to Rupert Giles just then.

“It’s all about the soul with you people,” His anger was rising. “All because of Angel whinging on about how he can’t love or choose anything but evil without a soul. Just because his barmy sadistic demon does all the driving without it, doesn’t mean that goes for the rest of us. Got news for you, pet,” He said as he turned and faced Buffy. “He lied. Was the fact that Angelus still loved you without the soul that made him come after you and your little pals and put the watcher’s dead bird in his bed. Had nothing to do with his whole ‘art’ of the kill crap and everything to do with erasing every bit of you and anyone connected so he could convince himself otherwise. Finally gave up and figured sending the world to hell ought to do the trick.”

He grabbed his coat off the back of the chair and pulled it on with quick angry movements.

“You lot believe whatever you want, but I don’t need a soul to know right and wrong, and I sure as hell don’t need one to know that I love you, Buffy, with everything inside me,” He said as he marched toward the front door. As he reached for the knob, he heard Giles quietly reply.

“There isn’t anything inside you, Spike, other than borrowed blood.”

He froze for a moment, hand on the doorknob. When would they ever learn? Probably not ever. But he would do whatever it took to be a part of Buffy’s life, and the child’s if she still decided to keep it. If that meant he had to make a change to be worthy of that in her eyes, then so be it.

“Get nice and comfy Slayer,” He turned and looked Buffy straight in her eyes. “I'll be back. And when I do... things are gonna change.”

And with that, he stormed out of Buffy’s house, slamming the door behind him. He had some planning to do. It was tricky business going halfway around the world to see a demon about a soul.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I normally don't write Giles so petty and spiteful, but the challenge was fairly specific, and honestly Giles was petty and spiteful in season 7.
> 
> Also, some dialogue is from Season 6, ep 20.


	7. Chapter 6

_May 12, 2000_

I have run into a snag and have had to change the plan. We knew it was likely that at some point I would have to insert myself more directly into the group if I am going to be able to identify the changes that need to be made. But I didn't anticipate it would be this soon. Of course, all we had to go on were the watcher's diaries and the memories the aunts and uncles shared with me, plus the archive scrolls from the demon side of things. Which seems like it would be sufficient, but I'm finding more and more that there are a lot of things missing.

I expected that to a degree. The watchers and archives are all too damn objective. They miss the nuance and the complexity of both human and demon that lead to the actions they take. I'm not saying they need to be headshrinkers, but would logging the interactions before the event have killed them? I know they can't know or document everything, but there some major goings-on that gets missed when you turn the rest of the world into a fishbowl and just mention the highlights. It's not the big moments that change history. Not really. It's the little moments that led up to it.

Like, for instance, the fact that I ran into Angelus, at a time and place where there should be no Angelus. I've scoured my memory over and over and there are no mentions by either Giles or Wyndam-Pryce about Angelus being in Sunnydale at this time, nor did the archives mention it. Granted, the archives were a bit sparse during this period since the Initiative was bagging anything and everything. Still, it caught me off guard.

I'd been following one of the goon squads to make sure nothing friendly gets captured. So many of the less pleasant demons are practically turning themselves into the Initiative, that they've had to send out more squads at the same time. This particular one was heading into the heart of town where a lot of the passive demons live, so I chose to follow them. They had been patrolling around the burned out school when they ended up cornering what I thought was a regular vampire. He felt older for sure, not many that old in Sunnydale, but certainly not out of the realm of what I've run into. He definitely didn't feel nearly as old as grandfather or a few others. The first squad radioed for help, which brought a second squad running. I've been playing the whole thing over and over in my head to analyze and plan........

_"Well, what have we here?" I ask myself as I perch on a corner of the building. "You feel a bit old for Sunnydale. And you’ve got skills. Strategic. That’s a nice surprise."_

_"Can do without the commentary if you don't mind," He shouts in my direction. I laugh._

_"Hey, let a girl enjoy her entertainment. I don't get to see the goon squads get their arses handed to them very often."_

_"Entertainment isn't exactly what I would call it," He says as he knocks out the last of the soldier boys, and then turns to face me in full game face._

_"That's because your sense of fun died when you did," I tease him as I jump down from my perch, landing in a solid three-point stance, and noticing that he turns into a fighting stance. Not that most people would recognize it as a fighting stance, but he's definitely coiled and ready._

_"Easy there tall, dark, and fangy," I hold my hands up to show him that I'm not holding any weapons. Not that I need them, or couldn’t get to them, but it’s the thought that counts, right? "You left them all alive, so I'm not planning to stake you. But a word to the wise? You run into a little blond about my height, she won't be as generous."_

_"You're human," He says, looking confused. Which I always find hilarious when they're in game face._

_"Last I checked," I laugh at him._

_He drops his game face, and his features melt into some decent looking attributes, with big brown eyes and a solid jawline. A memory flashes in front of me briefly, almost knocking me over with its impact._

_"Angelus?! You're supposed to be in Los Angeles!" The words shoot out of my mouth before I can check them._

_"It's Angel," He responds and then frowns at me. "Have we met before?"_

_"It's deluded is what it is," I scoff at him and roll my eyes. "They shoved your soul back in you, not some whole other consciousness."_

_"You're a slayer?" He tenses just a fraction more._

_And that's when soldier boy comes jogging into the alley. Must have been listening in. He glances around and sees all the bodies, then mirror’s Angelus’s stance, plus a baton. Great. This should end well._

_"Riley Finn," Angelus says, giving him a good once over._

_"Wait, you two know each other?" I surely did not see that coming._

_"I know you?" Soldier boy asks him._

_"Or not." So Angelus knows soldier boy, but he doesn't know Angelus. That’s all sorts of interesting._

_"We have a friend in common." Angelus drops a hint the size of a car._

_"Ouch! That’s some serious sizzle..."_

_"Angel." Soldier boy gets it in one. So apparently he does know about Angelus. Still pretty interesting._

_"Guess that makes you Faith," He says, looking at me._

_"Not by a long shot," I laugh again. "Don't hate myself or the world nearly enough to be Faith."_

_Both of them eyeball me. I just smile and shrug._

_"Welcoming committee your idea?" Angelus asks soldier boy, pointing towards the napping goon squads._

_"Way I heard it, you were all peaceable now. You didn't by any chance go and lose that pesky soul again, did you?"_

_"Don't push me, boy," Angelus grinds out._

_"Wow! Has anyone ever noticed how much you two look alike?" I ask. They ignore my question. They've gone over into male ego land, from which there is no return._

_"Now what possibly could've happened with Buffy that would make you lose your soul?" Soldier boy asks way too calmly. He really thinks he's got a chance. I have to give the boy props, he’s brave. Stupid, but brave._

_"That'd be between me and her," Angelus says with the tiniest grin and relaxes as he takes a step to edge around him._

_"Where do you think you're going?" Soldier boy steps in front of him, placing them face to face and toe to toe._

_"Going to see an old girlfriend." Angelus grins. He does like his head games according to the journals._

_"Oh, you really think I'm gonna let that happen?" Dang, the boy's got some stones. I'm amazed he's still alive._

_"You think you're gonna stop me? Angelus smirks and I see the dangerous glint in his eye._

_"Oh, this is about to get good!" I say, backing further away from all the testosterone on display._

_"I surely do," Soldier boy answers._

_"Game on!" I give a little fist pump. I get to watch Riley Finn and Angelus fight each other. All that's missing is my father. Now that would be the event of a lifetime! Well, my lifetime anyway._

_Angelus leads with a simple shove that soldier boy blocks, and then a right hook that lands solid. Soldier boy answers with a baton across Angelus’s face and then tries for a spinning back fist. Angelus sees it coming and grabs his arm, twists it, and easily disarms him before giving him a knee to his face and then giving him a toss into a nearby trash pile. Soldier boy recovers quickly and heads for his baton and higher ground. Of course, Angelus is on him in a flash, kicking the baton away and dishing another solid right hook. But soldier boy stays focused, grabbing the baton again and giving Angelus a solid crack to the shin with it. Then he grabs a bottle and smashes it over Angelus’s head, and the scent of more blood quickly hits my senses. The boy can improvise in a crisis. Nice! He grabs Angelus and uses his slight height advantage to give Angelus a hard knee to the kidney, and then spins him to give him a hard knee to the abdomen. He even gets a couple of decent punches in before Angelus bounces soldier boy's head off the nearest wall and then gets him pinned. I see him go for his taser as he struggles to keep Angelus at arm’s length._

_“I wouldn’t do that, you’re just going to piss him off,” I offer. Of course, he doesn’t listen._

_He gives Angelus a good tase to the chest, knocking him back. Predictably, Angelus comes up in game face._

_“Told you so.”_

_Soldier boy charges and lands a respectable kick to the chest, but his follow up is telegraphed and sloppy. Angelus grabs him and takes a running start to throw him like he’s some American football running back with a football. Soldier boy is clearly losing ground now. I suppose I should do something, particularly since Angelus is grabbing him like he’s about to toss him again, and neither one seems to have noticed the unmistakable sound of a military humvee approaching. I almost stopped myself from rolling my eyes as I jump in and grab Angelus’s arm before he can launch soldier boy. He snarls and tries to throw him anyway. I barely manage to grasp the boy’s booted foot before Angelus can launch him into space. The boy lands none too gently at our feet. Angelus turns and gives me a growl I’m sure is intended to make others cower at his feet. I’m actually a little giddy I got to hear it. No time to think about that though._

_“Measure wrinklies later boys. More welcoming committee with bigger better toys.” I nod my head towards the connecting alley, as I pull the disoriented soldier boy up to his feet and give him a shove towards the nearest shadowed escape route. Angelus glances in the direction I indicated and then gives me a shrewd look._

_“No one here ever looks up.” I nod upwards as I continue to push the stumbling soldier boy onward. Angelus smartly scales up the side of the warehouse and over the top. Once soldier boy is safely tucked into the shadows and moving better, I detach myself and decide to do the same. Soldier boy only spares me a moment’s glance as he continues onward. I’m a little torn about who to follow. I want to know why Angelus is here and no one mentioned it at the time. Soldier boy is clearly vulnerable at the moment; wounded, winded, and his insecurity giving him more brawn than brains right now. I decide to make sure he doesn’t get himself caught or killed. He needs to be in the right place at the right time to help my mother defeat Adam. I can always track Angelus once I’m sure soldier boy is safe._

_Little did I know, I’d end up killing two birds with one stone. Soldier boy beats a short path to my mother’s dorm room. The closer we get the more I scent that Angelus has already been this way very recently. By the time soldier boy enters the dorm, the scent of Angelus is still fresh. This is even more interesting, and confusing, than I thought it would be. However, it doesn’t last long, as within a few minutes Angelus is slowly ambling away from the dorms and back in the direction of downtown, looking pretty pensive. Enough that he surprisingly doesn’t seem to notice as I tail him back to his car. Or so I thought. He stops in front of the door and fishes out his keys._

_“I know you’re there,” He calls out into the darkness._

_Stupid curiosity. But hey, I didn’t anticipate getting to see the great Angelus in action._

_“Who are you?” He asks, turning around and looking up._

_I step forward and slide my legs over the edge of the building and have a seat._

_“We have a friend in common,” I echo his words. It’s both true and not._

_He seems to ponder my cryptic answer. Finally, he gives a short nod and then looks back up at me._

_“Faith?” He asks._

_“Still enjoying the hospitality of the great state of California as far as I know,” I answer._

_“Then how did you…” He leaves the question unfinished._

_“Ah, now that would be telling,” I chide him._

_He considers that but doesn’t respond. He just continues to stare at me like it’ll give him the answer he wants. And then he frowns. That’s probably not a good sign._

_“Have we met?” He asks for the second time tonight._

_How do I answer that? I was 9 months old when I saw him last. One of the benefits of being a dhampir is that our cognition develops faster than typical kids, and most of us have an eidetic memory. Probably due to the enhanced sense and metabolism that speeds up the development of our neurological systems, among other things. I’d imagine it’s hell on the people who raise us. But I can still see his face as clear as it was the day he leaned in and kissed me on the forehead as Aunt Anyanka made sure I was buckled into my car seat while complaining about him for making her late in leaving for Los Angeles. She was telling him that she needed to get us to minimum safe distance, and the longer he took, the less likely that was. His face looked a lot then like it does now. Like he’s trying to memorize something. Or maybe recall something. Hard to say._

_“You could say that,” I answer. “In another lifetime.” It wasn’t a lie. What can I say, I’ve picked up a few bad habits from grandfather._

_He frowns again and opens his mouth to ask another question, I’m sure._

_“Don’t,” I stop him. “Some questions are better left unanswered.”_

_After a second he nodded sagely and then turned back to his car._

_“Angelus?” I call after him. He turns half around and looks at me. “Don’t come back here again.”_

_He gives me a look that says he wants to challenge my order._

_“She’s in good hands. Focus on the mission. LA needs you.”_

_He gives me another frown. He does that a lot it seems. Then he gets in his car, a bleeding ancient convertible with the top down, and drives off. And if that car doesn’t say something about a vampire, I don’t know what does._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some dialogue from Season 4, Episode 20 - "The Yoko Factor"


	8. Chapter 7

_May 8, 2002_

"I, um, appreciate you seeing me on such short notice," I say as I signal the young waitress to bring another glass for the person who has just joined me in what passes for a pub in this part of Los Angeles. "As I mentioned when I called, a situation has developed in Sunnydale and I find that I'm quite out of my depth in this area."

"Go on," The vampire sitting across from me answers quite guardedly. 

"Well, it is a rather... delicate...matter, and I have exhausted all of the resources available to me, without drawing any unnecessary attention. Doing so at this point could prove rather... unwise." I offer a quick and nervous smile as I stare at my glass of overpriced American whiskey.

"And what does this have to do with me?" Angel asks, still quite guarded. I've been weighing my options of just how much I should tell him, and have yet to decide the most prudent course. 

"Nothing," I reassure him. "Nothing at all. Rather, it is your e-expertise in this area that I am interested in."

"And what area would that be?" He asks, starting to seem rather annoyed with me. But he nicely thanks the waitress as she deposits a small glass in front of him.

"What do you know of Dracula?" I ask, pouring a full measure in his glass. 

"Never met him," He answers with blunt disinterest.

"I see," I say as I contemplate whether I should have another shot. "And what do you know about the theory that there were once a variety of different breeds of vampires? I have studied the regional mythologies but had never truly entertained their validity until very recently."

"Giles, what are you doing here?" He says, leaning forward with his arms on the table. "Why are you wasting my time with questions about ancient history?" 

The look I give him is hard and measured. I can't be certain how he will react to what I need to ask him given the significant nature of his relationship with Buffy. Then again, I don't necessarily have to tell him who I'm am inquiring about. I can come at this a different way. 

"What do you know about vampires being able to father children?" I ask him bluntly, hoping my demeanor will convey the seriousness of my inquiry. 

He leans back against the booth and sends me a look that tells me I've quite thorougly angered him, though exactly why or how I am not certain. 

"Is that why you're here?" He asks, his anger seeming to grow. "To take Wes's side in all this? He kidnapped my son! Having him back doesn't change anything. I will never forgive him for that. Never! I don't care if there was a prophecy, he should have come to me about it!" 

"Good lord...." 

I am rendered mute. Did Angel really just say he had a son? And that Wesley had kidnapped the child? Prophecy? I'd been unable to locate a prophecy regarding Buffy's gestation, but perhaps I've been looking for the wrong subject. Angel has a son? A vampire...has fathered a human child...a son. As difficult as it was to wrap my head around Buffy's gravid state, I'd been so focused on the idea that I needed to prove to her that it was completely impossible that Spike could be the father of her child, even in the face of her insistence that he was the only possibility. And now I'm forced to not only contemplate that Spike may indeed be the father of her child, but also the fact that Angel has somehow fathered a child as well.

"Good lord!" 

"And... you didn't know about Connor," Angel sinks into the booth, and the empties his glass of the whiskey.

“Did you say he kidnapped him? Wesley?” My thoughts are like a rusted old watch with cogs sticking and jerking, but not really functioning properly at all.

He gives me a decided dark look and nods affirmatively. I am beginning to wonder if I’ve somehow gone through the looking glass. I certainly have better empathy for the feelings behind it.

“You mentioned he'd found some sort of prophecy,” I finally manage to tease out a coherent question.

“Some nonsense about ‘The father will kill the son.’ Turned out to be fake. Manipulated by some time traveling demon that Connor is prophesied to destroy.”

“Good lord!” How did I not know about a set of prophecies regarding a vampire having a son? “And this prophecy, it mentioned you specifically?”

“Unless you know another vampire with a soul?”

I don't. But I also don't know where Spike has disappeared to. He clearly said he would be returning, but he's not been seen at all anywhere since that night. Is it possible? Would he really seek to regain his soul? Spike very well might do anything in order to garner Buffy’s acceptance.

“Giles?” Angel is leaning onto the table again, shrewdly studying my response unless I miss my guess. “If you didn't know about Connor, why are you here asking about vampires having children?”

“Ah, well, apparently I've tipped my hand.” I offer a placating smile as I fill my glass. “I… it's just, your news took me off guard.”

“You didn't answer the question.”

“No, I suppose I didn't.” I swirl my glass of whiskey a moment before drinking half of it, letting the burn provide some measure of resolve. “The situation I spoke of involves a young woman who claims to have been impregnated by a vampire.”

“You're joking? This is why you came?”

“Regrettably, I'm afraid not. The vampire in question seems rather convinced as well. Both have assured me there are no possible other alternatives, and at this point, after talking to you I think I'm beginning to believe them.” I finish the rest of my glass and set about filling it once more.

“And you trust them?” He asks.

“No... no.” A brief but bitter smile crosses my face. ‘I-I don't trust the vampire at all…”

“But you believe the girl?”

“I do,” My answer is resolute. I have no doubt at all that Buffy would prefer virtually anyone else was the father of her child.

“You think the prophecy might be about them.”

“At the moment I'm not sure what I think,” I offer. “But, it may be a possibility, yes.”

“You're hiding something.” He has always been a perceptive one.

“The vampire in question... is none other than Spike.” The name rolls bitterly off my tongue.

“Spike?” He asks, clearly incredulous.

“Spike,” I confirm, and once again drink half a glass full, wishing the distasteful burn of the cheap alcohol will wipe the taste of that name from my mouth.

I glance up to gauge his reaction, noting that at first, he appears to be dumbstruck, but then he starts to laugh. A small sound initially, that turns into a full chested laugh. Before long I feel myself joining him.

“It really does sound rather preposterous, doesn't it?” I allow myself a few more seconds of laughter.

“Look,” Angel starts to settle himself more easily. “I don’t know what game he's playing but that's all it is. He probably paid some groupie to lie about it.”

My laughter is immediately stifled, as my thoughts are brought inevitably back to reality, and I finish off the rest of my glass.

“Not a lie. The pregnancy is confirmed.” I’ve felt the child move myself.

“I have no idea what he's up to,” Angel kindly refills my glass. “But I'd get the girl in question out if you can. Once she's no longer useful to him, he'll drain her.”

“The girl in question,” I offer gravely, “is Buffy.”

Silence. His glare is boring right through me.

“You're lying,” He finally responds.

“Oh, how I wish that I were.” My kingdom for a vengeance demon just now, else the world is lost. I swallow the drink he poured in one go.

Suddenly, there is the sound of breaking glass, and I notice that Angel has crushed his own glass in his hand. There are jagged pieces jutting sharply through his fingers, and blood is beginning to collect on the table beneath it. His normally schooled emotions are anything but at the moment, as confusion, betrayal, and anger all seem to silently fight for dominance.

“How?” He finally asks.

“The usual way, I'm afraid,” I answer.

“No… Buffy wouldn't… she hates Spike… she… no!” I understand his feelings at that moment all too well.

“Until a couple of weeks ago, I would have completely agreed with you. But…”

“But what?” His voice is beginning to rise with his anger. “He had to have done… something. There's no way Buffy would have…”

“She instigated it,” I interrupt him, rendering him once again speechless as he processes the revelation. “Buffy believes that she was in heaven before Willow resurrected her. She felt confused and betrayed. Spike was the only person she felt she could confide in.”

“There you go! He took advantage of her! He used her!”

“Actually, she’s rather insistent that she used him.” I want to fill my glass again but decide at this point the alcohol has failed to produce the desired effect.

“After she was resurrected, she felt disconnected… from herself and everything...everyone... else. For some reason, Spike was able to ground her. She sought him out and instigated the relationship knowing he wouldn't refuse.”

He's staring off into the distance now, likely trying to understand, like myself, how things could have gone so horribly wrong without the rest of us noticing. Was there something I missed? Some clue that should have signaled just how lost my slayer had become? Something I should have done that could have prevented this?

“That's why you asked about Dracula.” His sudden statement interrupts my ruminations.

“Yes,” I confirm. “The mythology surrounding him includes the suggestion that he has been able to father several children over the centuries.”

Angel is unusually silent as he continues to stare at me.

“Angel,” I lean forward, placing my arms on the table and resting my weight on them. “Do you mean to tell me that's true? That dhampir actually exist?

I'm not certain why my incredulity is still coloring my voice. Buffy's child is very real and now I’ve learned Angel has a son. Clearly, the council was erroneous in their determination regarding this matter.

He sits forward himself again, narrowing the distance and seems to be vacillating about whatever he's about to say.

“Officially? No. In reality? Yes.” He gives me a moment to digest that statement. “There are texts, ancient texts, that detailed their existence. They're tied to a few ancient races that no longer exist. Last ones died out a hundred years ago.”

“Except Dracula?” I ask.

He nods, confirming the question.

“Good lord! Why didn't the council know about this?" My frustration is rising even more. "How could we not know?"

“My guess?” He pauses, giving me a hard look of judgment. “They did... and buried it."

"Buried it? Why on earth would they bury such knowledge?"

"Because the mothers never survived unless…” He trails off.

“Unless?” I prompt him to continue.

“Unless they're a slayer.”

“Fucking hell!” I've already come to my feet before the expletive left my lips. How can this be? “You're lying.” I challenge him, leaning in closer and placing my palms on the table. “Take it back, you bloody pillock!”

“Or a potential slayer... if they're lucky,” He says unwaveringly as looks me dead in the eyes. "Otherwise... they die. The child, too."

I sink back into my seat, stupefied.

“Good Lord!” Is all I can manage. I seem to be saying that a lot of late.

Of course. It all makes a very deranged sort of sense. And suddenly Buffy’s inexplicable relationship with not one, but two, vampires is much less inexplicable. A warrior would naturally, though perhaps unconsciously, seek out its equal. A supersymmetry of sorts.

“Unofficially, they were forbidden. No one could predict or control them. They're essentially slayers from birth. Humans and demons alike feared them. That’s why they were usually hunted down and killed. They had the potential to become immensely powerful, and every demon in their path could feel it.” He sits back again and shoots his glassful of whiskey. “Granted, that was more than a hundred years ago. Not sure if that would be the case now. Not that it matters. Dracula's the only one left and even a rumor of one would end with the mother being killed to prevent the birth.”

“And yet I'm faced with the inescapable fact that two vampires have somehow sired offspring,” I point out.

“That's different. Wes said Connor was some sort of prophecy. Didn't really catch all of it. Was too busy trying to keep everyone alive.”

“Do you believe this other prophecy you spoke of, that you would kill your son, is genuinely false?” I asked him.

For several moments he didn't answer. Didn't move or breathe, just sat there like some morbid statuary made in tribute to bitter regret.

“I don't know,” His answer finally came. “The demon could have been lying about rewriting it. But Wes was willing to bet his life on it.” His anger is palpable, though whether it is for Wesley or Spike I can only guess.

“I see.” That Wesley had plotted a kidnapping at the risk of his own life, certainly spoke to the level of his conviction that the prophecy was valid. “It would seem I'll be extending my visit to include consulting with Wesley.”

“Do whatever you need to do.” Angel slides out of the booth to stand. He withdraws his wallet and tosses several bills on the table. “But remember, once Spike sets his mind on something, he doesn't stop. Not until everything in his path is dead. If he really believes it's his, I wouldn't want to be the one who got between them."

"Do you believe that would include Buffy?" I have to ask. Angel knows Spike better than anyone.

A disturbingly haunted look crosses his face momentarily.

"I honestly don't know." His answer is resolute.

I watch as he turns and walks away. I fear he is correct. Spike's obsession seems to know no bounds. We've all become too complacent with him and forgotten how truly dangerous he can be. If he redirects his obsession to include Buffy's child, I can only imagine the lengths to which he'll go.

If this prophecy is indeed correct, I fear there may be only one course of action that could adequately protect Buffy and her child. And I fear it is one that Buffy herself could never do, nor could I ask it of her. She's already sent one vampire she loved to hell, and it was almost her undoing.

She may not admit the depth of her feelings for Spike to herself or anyone else at this point, but it is obvious to anyone who cares to actually look. No, if it comes down to it, this is something I'll have to do myself… with the help of the proper ally.


	9. Chapter 8

_May 14, 2000_

Now, this is more like it! I hate to say it, but I missed this. Ok, no I don’t hate saying it. Everyone can bite me! I like a challenge, and the horde of demons currently running amok in the initiative compound is definitely that. You grow up having to progressively fight more and more to keep yourself and those you love alive? Well, the relative peace and calm of Sunnydale that was, is a little boring. I mean, boring can be good. I’d rather be bored than fighting off dozens of Turok-han while trying to drag a wounded human to safety. But this is definitely doable.

“A Miquat? Not exactly fair now, is it?” I give an annoyed look to the demon approaching me with a nasty grin as he produces two of those wicked looking bone blades of theirs. “All I can do is flash a little fang.” I give him a wink and a malicious little smile, flashing my fangs for the briefest second. It has the desired effect of throwing him off guard, and that’s all I needed. Before he knows what’s hit him, I’ve cut off his head with his own blade. Though, technically I guess that means he cut off his own head. Oh well, at least now I have two wicked looking bone blades, I laugh to myself. “Now, who needs my help most, and where are the worst of the demons?”

“Bloody buggering fuck!” The dumb as rocks goon squads had apparently bagged an Urbarra at some point because it has now joined the fray and is shredding everything it comes across. What the hell were they thinking? Where’d they even catch the thing? Last I knew the're were only a few left in the Zagros mountains. Did they mistake it for a hellhound or werewolf? Sure they’re the origin of werewolves… five thousand years ago... but the things are like sharks. Five thousand years at the top of the food chain, why change? Were they trying to make werewolves? Surely they’re not that stupid?

A quick vault over the railing puts me in arms reach of the unfortunate guy currently being shredded by the Urbarra. Not much left to do but put him out of his misery. A quick snap of his neck and I jump out of there before the bloody thing decides I’m next on the menu. You can take them from behind if you can get the drop on them, but going head-on is a death wish that I don’t have, thank you very much.

A Varhall demon lands a damn good hit to my stomach as I dive in between it and a science type in a lab coat. I shove her towards the armory and tell her to run. These guys are taller than me, but it doesn’t make much difference if you know what you’re doing. I land a hook kick with my right, sending it sprawling sideways, and add a hard stomp for good measure. Damn thing rolls in and goes for my other foot. Good thing I’ve got fast reflexes. A jump and a sweet little elbow to the mid-back in a crash landing offers me a very satisfying couple of cracks of its spine and ribs.

I’m back up and letting the Varhall up as well, then fighting on autopilot as I keep an eye on the half a dozen things going on around me that I need to. There are goons all over the place, with their M-16’s and M9’s spraying lead everywhere. Hell, I bet half the original casualties documented were downed by friendly fire and the demons just went for easy prey.

My mother’s crew made their way to the 314 area about 15 minutes ago. The Colonel took two tries to get out of the armory and ended up retreating to the controls room. Damn, he was shredded in the controls room in the original reports. Wouldn’t it be poetic if it was that Urbarra that got him? That’s what they get for messing with demons. Soldier boy’s buddy, what’s his name, Graham, is pretty handy with his weapons, too bad the rest are in such a panic. I’m pretty sure at least one bullet has grazed my shoulder. My father is fighting off on one side, trying to take out as many demons as he can, because they sure don’t seem to mind trying to take him out.

So far I’ve managed to take out a Haxil beast (that’s another one I wonder how they got ahold of) a pair of Jhe (bet that bag cost them a few broken bones), a hellhound, an Ana-Movic (who apparently didn’t the memo they’re peaceful now), a Davric, and more vampires that I can shake a stake at. The goons and my father have downed a howler, another two Varhall, a Nurbatch (ew!), a M’Fashnik (impressive), and littered the rest of the place with a dozen things I can’t even identify.

Holy hell! Thank you whoever set off that explosion. Pretty sure my ears are bleeding now. Aaaand there’s tentacles raining down... gross. Ah, it was that Graham guy. He’s standing by the rail around the pit, a string with at least half a dozen grenade pins dangling from his left hand. Nice improv, but some warning would have been good. What the heck did they have down there, anyway? Whatever it was, it’s sashimi now. At least I’m not the only thing that was knocked of its feet. Pretty much everything else in a twenty-foot radius of the pit is also down. But down is no place to be right now.

As I’m getting back to my feet, I see the Urbarra making a beeline across the compound towards 314. Giles wrote that Spike saved them from a demon as they were coming out of the spell, but he’s damn busy with some sort of mucousy tentacle-head thing.

“Spike!” I yell at him.

He ignores me. Ok, I’d probably ignore me too if I were fighting tentacle-head. Not many things that don’t go down with blade to the head though. I carefully aim the bone blade, wouldn’t want to take off dear old dad’s head, and put most of my power behind the throw. The blade embeds deeply into tentacle-head’s cranium, and after a second’s pause, it drops like a rock. Well, a jello-y rock. 

“Spike!” I yell again. This time I get his attention. “Urbarra! Heading for 314!”

Confusion. Good grief. Pretty sure I could see the back of my skull with the eye roll I just gave him.

“Giles, Xander, and Willow are in 314!” I yell as some weird horned thing takes a swipe at me. A flying armbar takes him down, and I make short work of him with the other bone blade.

More confusion as he belts some rando vampire trying to come at him from his left, sending him flying backward.

“Might earn you some points?” I say, running over to retrieve the blade I’d thrown. “Keep ‘em from staking you over the whole Adam thing?” I wipe off the gross nastiness of tentacle-head’s mucus on its shirt... cloak... whatever it is. He gives me a curious look, but then turns and runs after the Urbarra at probably close to his top speed.

“Who are you?” The vampire he’d belted is giving me a weird look. “And why are you helping Spike?”

I pop the guy in the nose, snapping his head back. He gives me a growl for my efforts.

“Who are any of us, really?” I answer as he lunges for me. A quick and brutal swipe of the blade takes his head off nicely, showering me in yet more dust.

Another Miquat stalks towards me, slicing and dicing other demons as he does.

“A knife fight, then?” I ask, tilting my head to the left. “Bring it on!” I tell him, as I gauge his size against how he’s moving. He looks and feels a little older than most Miquat I’ve fought. Which is unusual. It’s generally only the young bucks that go out hunting down kills to prove their value to the tribe. Guess this one just loves the hunt. 

I throw myself all in, my two confiscated bone blades against his. They’re fun little blades. Sort of like fighting with a set of butterfly swords. It’s all about precision and control. I have to give the Miquat a few points, he’s damn good with them. Of course, they’re a natural extension of his body, while mine are just borrowed weapons.

“Hey!” I yell, as the thing smiles, having slashed a grazing slice across my stomach. “This is one of my better shirts!” Guess that’s what I get for wearing the thing to a massacre. I throw myself back into the fight, and for a while, the Miquat seems to be getting in more slices than I am. But now I’m pissed. Just as I see an opening and wind up to go for his throat, I hear the unmistakable sound of a Beretta M9. The Miquat jerks forward and then drops to the floor as I jump out of arm’s range of it. And standing behind it is, wouldn’t you know it, soldier boy.

“Spoilsport!” I say, folding my arms. “Best fight I’ve had in weeks.” I’m aware I’m grumbling, but damn it, I’d have had him.

“That’s her,” He says. “The slayer I told you about.”

And here we go.

“Not the time, nor place, Soldier Boy. Still plenty of demons to kill and humans to save.” I elbow a female vampire trying to lunge at me, while my mother stands there staring at me. Is she sizing me up? Trying to figure out who I am and how I’m here?

“She’s right,” My mother says. “We’ve got to get these people out of here.” She turns to address the group, taking over like the field general every slayer is born to be. “Riley, get the rest of the soldiers and start moving people towards the elevator. The rest of you, you’re with me. Spike, you and…” She looks at me expectantly.

“Hope,” I answer. I have to stifle a laugh at her short reaction. Guess I don’t look like a Hope to her. Fair enough. It isn’t the name she gave me.

“You and Hope, cover our backs as we move everyone towards the elevators. We don’t need any demons picking off the slow and injured. Giles and Xander, check for survivors as we go. Help any you can.”

Having issued orders, she moves around me and starts her push to get across the compound. Aunt Willow, Uncle Xander, and Giles fall in behind her, giving her a wide enough berth to do her job without becoming collateral damage. My father gives me quite the once over, his left eyebrow quirked up, clearly making a mental guess of whether he can take me. I send him back a quirked eyebrow of my own. Hopefully, my look says that I’m amused he thinks he can try. In reality, I wish he would. I wonder if the behavior modification chip would recognize me a human or demon? He shrugs and steps to my right, as a demon with horns jutting from its jaw approaches. He throws himself into that fight as a Varhall jumps off a crate to my left and slams a double fist down on my left shoulder. I pivoted to try to dodge the blow, which is why he got my shoulder and not my head, but it still hurts like hell.

“How many of you guys did the goon squads bag?” I ask no one in particular. The Varhall just snarls in response as he grabs my right arm. Too bad for him, I’m left-handed. The bone blade sinks into his gut like it’s warm butter, and a sharp push upward carries it straight up his middle, and back out. Entrails and gray blood spill out of the hole as it drops to its knees and falls over, a terrible string of what I’m sure are curses spilling just as freely from its mouth.

I follow behind the group, keeping a side eye on the goons as soldier boy manages to somehow get them organized and working together instead of acting in a blind panic. A few science types are now huddled in the group and moving toward us. Uncle Xander and Giles are quickly checking bodies as we go. Most are dead, but Giles finds one and starts helping him up.

I spot one of the goons off to the side, completely eviscerated, crying and moaning, while still hitting weakly with the reptilian looking thing that is currently gnawing on his intestines. I take pity on him, jumping over a couple of bodies to get to him. I quickly snap his neck, then slice half the reptile thing’s arm off as it tries to claw at me for ruining its dinner. I follow it up by slitting its throat and get covered in bright green goo for my efforts. Jumping back over to the group, I notice Giles is staring at me, while still helping the limping goon along towards the exit.

Yeah, yeah. Pretty sure I’m getting a lecture about that later. Like it or not, the guy wasn’t getting out when his guts and parts of his liver were laying around him in shreds while he’s starting to swim in his own blood. I just gave him a quicker and easier death. Being eaten alive is a terrible way to go.

As we get closer to the elevator shaft, it looks like most of the more dangerous demons are either dead and dying, or eating the dead and dying. Even the vampires are trying to drain the dead humans. Guess it’s hard to pass up an all you can eat buffet. Only a few demons are still dragging around looking to fight. Between me, my mother, and my father, they don’t last long, and the smart ones head back toward the fallen.

I notice the Colonel isn’t among the soldiers. He was found in the controls room according to the records. I look over in that direction just in time to see a hellhound disappear down the hall. So it wasn’t an urbarra that did him in. Still a terrible way to go. I’d go save him, but that would leave their right flank open and the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the one. Sorry man. Guess it really was your fate to die today.

Before too long, we’ve got everyone alive out and up the elevator shaft into the frat house. The goons are calling in military aid and ambulances for the seriously injured, and boy is this a familiar scene. Places may change, but the carnage and adrenaline don’t. I make a quick count and notice there are actually four more goons, and three more science types than in the original reports. Not the greatest increase in survivors, but it’s seven more people that get to go home to families and maybe die of old age. If I can stop The First from taking over, that is.

“Hey?” My mother’s voice cuts through the din, and I turn to face her. “You said your name is Hope?” She asks.

This is the closest I’ve ever been to her. That I can remember anyway. She’s shorter than me. A couple of inches shorter, in fact. Her hair is still holding beautifully together in a twist of gold crowing her head, with the rest falling in gentle waves behind her. Her eyes are both wary and gentle. They’re greener than in the picture I have. She seems almost nervous. Not that I’d blame her. She’s probably wondering if I’m Faith 2.0. I can see why so many underestimated her. She’s beautiful and strong, and standing a few inches away from me, and I want nothing more than to fall into her arms and tell her who I am.

I feel the wetness hit my cheek and quickly turn away and swipe at it as I make some lame excuse about smoke and vamp dust. God’s I’m such a sap. I’ve been watching her for months now, and still, I’m trying to turn into a bag of waterworks being this close.

“Hey, you ok?” She asks as she reaches out and places a hand on my arm. Her concerned look almost takes me out at the knees, and I have to look away. Big mistake. Because now I see my father studying me intently from across the room as he leans against a wall. It’s still light out, and he’s trapped unless he wants to make a dash for the nearest manhole cover. I get the sudden impression that he’s too damn intuitive, that one.

“Just mad about soldier boy stealing my thunder with the Miquat,” I give her a half smile as I turn away from his entirely too observant gaze, putting him in the edge of my peripheral view. “I mean, what else am I going to use these for?” I ask as I fish out the two bone blades from the back of my waistband.

“I vote burn them,” She says as she wrinkles up her nose at the admittedly weird looking blades. And it’s so adorable and funny I can’t help but laugh, which makes her smile. It’s a good thing I have a photographic memory because seeing her like this is way better than any picture.

“I’m Buffy,” She holds a hand out in greeting.

For a moment all I can do is stare at it. I want to do so much more than shake her hand. But for now, it’ll do. I tuck the blades back in my waistband.

“Hope.” I reach out and shake it. It’s small, almost delicate, but strong. Her fingers are long and slender, like mine, with well-manicured nails. When it starts to feel odd that I’m still holding her hand, I let go and cross my arms again.

“So, Riley tells me you’re a slayer?” She jumps right into the deep end. I see Giles notice us and he starts subtly edging closer.

“For about a year now,” I nod. I can already see the thoughts starting to form in her head. Good. Better for them to fill in the blanks than me leading them.

“So how’d you know Angel?” She asks. I guess they both mentioned me in their brief little meeting the other night.

“I was just out patrolling when I came across what I thought was a random vampire hitting one of the goon squads.” It’s the truth. “Noticed he wasn’t killing any of them and figured I’d check out why. That’s when Soldier Boy,” I nod in his direction, “Came running in and made a bunch of hasty assumptions.”

“So I heard,” She looks down at the floor, grinning. Then she latches onto something I said and looks back up, with her brow creased in confusion. “You’ve been patrolling?”

“Just a little,” I lie. Sort of. I haven’t really been doing much official patrolling. Mostly just chasing down the goon squads and going on an occasional hunt for the less savory demons when I’m feeling a bit restless and running through my training routines isn’t cutting it. “Trying to lighten your load a bit, without being too obvious.”

“Oh,” She seems a little shocked. And then not for some reason. “Well, thanks for helping us today.”

“My pleasure,” I smile. “Didn’t have much else to do today anyway.” 

“So, don’t take this the wrong way, but…”

“Why haven’t I introduced myself?” I interrupt. “Let everyone know I’m here? Jump in with both feet?”

“I was going to say, how’d you know we were going after Adam today, but that too.” She answers.

Damn. You’d think that after years of training and meditation I would have tighter control on my impulsivity. Apparently not. Best go for the truth.

“Well, I’ve sort of been studying you guys for a while. Trying to feel everyone out before I just show up and insert myself into a well established and pretty tight dynamic. I’ve heard how things went with Faith and didn’t want to make anyone uncomfortable or have certain people jumping to wrong conclusions.”

“Oh… about that…”

“You don’t have to explain anything,” I interrupt. “It’s all practically ancient history in the scheme of things.”

“Good!” She looks at me, uncertain. “That's good, then.”

“Buffy?” I pause and look straight into her eyes, making sure I have her complete attention. I think she needs to hear this, but I’m not certain. “I’m not Faith. I’m not morally confused or planning to switch sides. I can admit my mistakes and learn from them. I won’t target your boyfriend, or try to get your friends to like me. I’m not perfect, and will never claim to be. I know without a doubt that the mission is what’s important. You’re the leader here and I’ll follow wherever you tell me to. I’m really and truly just here to help you.”

For a moment, I’m not sure if she’s going to react to anything I’ve said. She just continues looking at me. Finally, she gives me the tiniest of smiles.

“Good to know,” she says.

“Buffy?” Someone calls her name from across the room, and she turns to see who.

“I, uh, should go…”

“Nice to meet you, finally!” I call out as she starts to walk away. Gods, that sounded more than a bit desperate to my ears.

“You too,” she says. “We'll, uh, catch up later. Fill in the group?”

I nod. Speaking of ears… I check to see if mine are still bleeding from that bloody explosion. Thankfully, they don’t seem to be. Only a bit of dried blood from one ear. I look around again, mentally checking if there’s anyone my medical skills can help. I’m not going to start whipping out any healing spells in front of everyone, but a field dressing is a field dressing.

And damned if I don’t lock eyes with my father again. He’s still staring at me, but now his head is cocked off to one side, with his eyes a bit narrowed. I mentally double check my veil. There’s only two people in the room who would pick up on what I am if I drop it, but I don’t think my mother would understand what she’s feeling. She’d probably dismiss it as being due to the presence of another vampire in the room. My father, on the other hand... His demon would pick up on it in a heartbeat. No, my veil is holding up and strong as ever. So that’s not it. He’s probably just trying to suss out how there’s now supposedly three Slayers in this world.

“Hey, Hope?” My mother approaches me again. “Me and the others are going to head over to my house once everything here is settled and decompress with a couple of movies and some snacks. You wanna come? It’d be a chance to formally introduce yourself, in an informal way, that is.”

Yes! My brain is screaming at me. Say yes!

“Nah,” I answer instead. “I, uh, feel like I need to do a little patrolling. Maybe work off some of this energy. But I’ll catch up with you guys tomorrow if that’s ok?”

“Oh, yeah… totally ok.” She seems a little let down but is trying to cover it well.

“I promise I’m not ditching you,” I giggle just a bit. “You guys go celebrate your big win. I’m fine. I promise.”

“I’m totally fine, that you’re fine. Tomorrow!” She says as she backs away but then pauses. “Say, where are you staying?”

Damn it. Now I’ll have to be careful. Who knows when one of them might pop up.

“Remember the little rat trap where you cornered the sorcerer who turned Giles into a Fyarl?”

She scrunches her nose up again. Clearly a sign that she does indeed remember.

“I couldn’t agree more,” I laugh. “But beggars can’t be choosers, and a slayer’s salary doesn’t cover much.”

“What salary?” She asks, looking very confused.

“Exactly,” I smile.

She nods sagely and then turns and meanders over to talk to Giles. I decide that now is as good a time as any to beat a hasty retreat. I’ve given them enough to chew on and figure out. They’ll come to me sooner rather than later wanting to know more.

“Oh, Buffy?” I call out. I really can’t leave without warning them.

“Yeah?”

“When I was little, a very wise woman told me to remember that magic always has consequences. Always. If you guys did the spell I think you did, you should be prepared.”

“Prepared for what?” Giles suddenly pipes up, glasses in hand and giving me that stare he does so well. Still almost makes me shiver.

“Sineya. You called on her power... didn’t you? She’ll come for you.” I answer as honestly as I can and I start backing toward the door.

“And you know this how?” He shrewdly asks.

“Consequences,” I answer. “There’s always consequences.”


	10. Chapter 9

_July 8, 2002_

Where did you go?

How did you do it?

How do I help you?

How can I feel so lost and so clear all at the same time?

These are the questions that plague my mind as I sit here, staring at the unconscious vampire currently chained up in my basement. Xander found him in the basement of the new Sunnydale High School a couple of weeks ago, half lucid one moment and insanely rambling on to invisible people the next. No one knows how long he was down there, but it can’t have been too long.

I was so worried.

I had a lot of time to think between when he left and when Xander found him. It helped that Giles was there to listen without judging. I’d been worried he would be disappointed or angry or something, but he just listened and then held me in one of the few real hugs I’ve had in the last couple of years. I should have known he would be supportive. He was the only one who wasn’t all judgy when everyone found out how Angel lost his soul. And now he’s the one who isn’t judging me despite hearing all the things I’ve done since they pulled me back from Heaven. How I felt. How I turned to Spike. How I used Spike. Why I used him. How Spike took it all and asked for nothing in return except that I acknowledge our relationship to everyone. How I refused to do so because that would mean acknowledging that he loved me… that he could love me.

I also would have had to acknowledge that I had feelings for him. There’s irony for you. I sang about wanting to feel and then spent months convincing myself that I didn’t feel. Not like that, anyway. What I wouldn't give now for a chance at "once more... with feeling."

But then as days turned into weeks and he was still gone, I realized I was worried. Really worried. Was he alive? Was he hurt? Was he trying to get back here and couldn’t? Had he left for good because I refused to admit how I felt? Did he even want to come back? I knew he said he would be back, but what if he changed his mind? What if he decided he didn’t want anything to do with me? What if he didn’t want anything to do with our child?

Our child.

I’m not sure when it stopped being either mine or Spike’s and started being ours. It just did. I started wondering what she will look like, our little Christmas miracle. There's irony. I skipped out on the usual celebrations to go have sex with Spike, and we end up making a baby. A girl. Will she have my dimples? His cheekbones? His eyes? His smile? My hair? What will he see of himself in her? What will he see of me in her? He didn’t even know if it was a girl or boy before he left.

I never told him the reasons I decided to keep it. Part of me knew before Giles even told me that chances are good that I won't get to see her grow up. I won't get to see the beautiful woman she becomes. But part of me will still be here when I'm gone. More than just Dawn. And something about that is somehow comforting. Like my life had even more meaning than just saving the world a few times. That it was about more than just how many things I can kill. Dawn will still have a family to be part of. There will be someone for Spike to fight for and protect. Now that I think about it, he seems to need that. To be important to someone. To be needed and wanted by someone. Then again, don't we all?

He'd do anything for the person he loves. Even if this was the only child he'd ever have, he said he'd give it up because I meant more to him than anything else. I think that’s the moment I stopped denying how he felt. How could I not? I’m skilled at navigating denial, but that was a little too much for even me to deny it at that point. And from there it wasn’t a very big leap to start admitting how I felt about him. It had hit me before that I had way more feelings for him than I was admitting to even myself. When he’d plunged that stake into his chest, I had a blind moment of panic that he was gone. That I’d lost him. And then I’d silently thanked God when he wasn’t dust, and wondered how he’d somehow missed his heart.

I think that, on some level, I knew back then that I love him. But hey, denial girl here. No, I knew before that. When Riley had come back with his perfect wife and they were so happy. I had gone marching into Spike’s crypt chock full of insecurity and demanded he tell me that he loved me and wanted me. He’d been so happy that I’d asked him to say that. And it made me feel whole again, if for a little while anyway. We took our time instead of starting out in a frenzy, and he whispered all the things he’d ever wanted to say, but I never had allowed... and I let him. And part of me knew. And once I had that realization, the rest just sort of fell in place.

I wanted him to come back.

I needed him to come back. I needed him to know that I understood now. I needed to tell him as much as he had desperately needed to hear it. I needed him to be here to help me through this. I needed him here for a lot of things. But I didn't just need him here, I wanted him here. I’ve been more afraid the last two months than I’ve probably ever been since I became a slayer. Even during the whole tower and Glory thing, I didn’t really have time to be afraid.

There was the big bad, that was really a bunch of little bads that all went megalomaniac at the same time. Amy hooked up with some sorcerer and took Tara hostage in some half-brained plan to try and steal Willow’s power. That backfired spectacularly when they didn’t account for the possibility that taking Tara made Willow go all Dark Phoenix and nearly level a couple of blocks getting her back.

There was the nerd trio. After I thwarted their heist and the police had Andrew and Jonathan, Warren showed up at my front door with a gun. I didn’t even check before answering the door. I just figured it was one of Dawn’s friends coming to walk to school with her. As soon as I opened the door he started firing. I wasn’t fast enough. Not nearly. I took one to the shoulder and Dawn, she’d been coming down the stairs, took two. One in the stomach and one in her arm, shattering the bone. I hadn’t known she was on the stairs. I just reacted as he pulled the trigger the first time and hit the gun away and pinned his arm against the door as he pulled the trigger twice more. If it hadn’t been for Willow and Tara being upstairs, I don’t think either of us would have made it.

I’d been so scared. Would Dawn make it? Would I? I was losing a lot of blood. Not as much as Dawn, though. God, I was so scared. Would Spike grieve? Would he even know we died? Sitting in that hospital, surrounded by friends and machines, I’ve never felt so alone and afraid. I wanted him there so damn much at that moment. Telling Dawn he’d resurrect her and kill her himself if she died on him. Holding my hand and threatening to kill me for scaring him.

Twice more I’ve ended up at the hospital in the last month. I thought I knew pain. Apparently having a baby with supernatural strength doesn’t do your insides any favors. I’ve heard of people joking about their baby kicking like a mule, but in my case, it’s literally true. She’s already broken my ribs, and I can’t imagine what she’ll do as she gets more crowded in there. Twice now there’s been bleeding and pain and it’s way too soon for her to be born even if she is supernatural. Both times I kept hoping he’d show up and just hold me and tell me how stupid I was being for worrying and telling her to knock it off and be a good girl for him.

But he wasn’t here.

Because apparently, he’d gone to somehow get his soul… for us. That revelation was both frightening and humbling. A demon went and got his soul, on purpose, for me. It keeps playing over and over in my head, like a video that’s stuck in a loop.

_“It's what you wanted, right? And...and now everybody's in here, talking. Everything I did...everyone I... and him... and it... the other, the thing beneath… beneath you. It's here too. Everybody. They all just tell me go... go... to hell.”_

_“Why? Why would you do that?” I managed to ask despite my shock._

_“Buffy, shame on you. Why does a man do what he mustn't? For her. To be hers. To be the kind of man who... to be a kind of man. She shall look on him with forgiveness, and everybody will forgive and love. He will be loved. So everything's OK, right?... Can… can we rest now, Buffy? … Can we rest?”_

God, I'd gotten it so wrong. 

He was never just a monster. At least not for a long time now. But I treated him like one. And he let me. I hated myself and this world and my friends, and I took it out on him. And he let me. Because he was a monster. That's what I told him enough times, isn't it? That he wasn't a man and never could be?

So he got a soul. 

To be a man, because that's what he thought I deserved. What we deserved. And now it's torturing him. But it's not the only thing torturing him. I don’t know who or what the invisible people are, but I think they’re real. I know what they’re doing to Spike is real. I just don’t know how to help him. There are moments when he’s almost himself, but something about this baby seems to make him pull back into himself. One moment he’s giving me that look that only he can pull off the way he does. He can tell me a thousand times with just that look how much he loves me. The next moment he’s rambling about hiding and how he doesn’t deserve it. And now suddenly he has moments where he is like some feral thing. Like the last 5 years never happened and he doesn’t even know me beyond the fact that I’m food.

He’s asked me more than once now to stake him. Kill him before he gets loose. He’s not the only one. Anya suggested it. Giles has suggested it, several times. They all think he’s a danger. They’re right, he is. But I can’t give up on him. Not after everything he’s done to change, to be a better person... to be what we all told him he couldn’t be. I can’t give up on him. He needs to know that I believe in him. He needs to know that he was right. I do love him. And we need him. I need him. I really, really, want him. I want Spike back.

I’m in love with you, but I don’t know how to help you.

You’ve always been so strong and certain.

You’re right here in front of me, and yet I still miss you.

Please, Spike, come back to me.

Come back to us.

Please.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some dialogue from Season 7, Episode 2 - Beneath You


	11. Chapter 10

_May 15, 2000_

So, this is the inner sanctum. The current Sunnydale slayer headquarters. A humble looking flat in one of the many mission style condo’s that populate one of the oldest areas of Sunnydale. It is rather beautiful in both simplicity and design. The central courtyard with gated entry offers a modest, and false, sense of security.

Entering Giles’s flat signals the finality of this stage in the plan. It came sooner than I’d planned, but I am nothing if not adaptive. You have to be. Rigid thinking and inability to adapt and adjust is a quick and sure way to find yourself planted six feet under. There is no going back now. Not that there ever was, but I can’t go back to the relative anonymity of watching them from the outside. I’m now part of them, and I will have to be all the more careful to ensure what and who I really am isn’t discovered.

They are all guarded, but cordial. Uncle Xander is the most guarded, keeping a quiet but observant eye after he mumbles his name and a hello. Aunt Anyanka doesn’t hide her curiosity at all, which is both comforting and amusing. I have missed her so much for several years now. Aunt Willow introduced herself with the same enthusiasm that I watched her use to greet several new slayers and allies over the years. It was part test and part bait. She always knew how to get close to people when she wanted to.

Aunt Tara is so shy and self-conscious. I can tell she hasn’t found her place in this group yet. I am hoping it is enough to throw her off of sussing out that I’ve got a veil concealing something from her. I wave hello to her as Willow introduces her. I don’t know what her powers are right now, but I don’t want to take a chance of touching her, either, no matter how hard it is to not hug her. After all, she is the person who was basically my mother for years.

And then there’s Giles. Stuffy as always. Warm and cold all at the same time. His curiosity is ever present as he studies every move I make, how I interact with the others, and where I choose to sit as he invites us all to have a seat. There’s a reason they are called watchers. My mother is far more balanced in that regard. She’s both accepting and watchful. I get the sense that she is the sort that gives everyone several chances before she turns into a burned bridge.

Once we are all seated, everyone is sort of trying not to stare at each other while trying to figure out how to break the ice and ask the million questions I’m sure they have. As the uncomfortable silence drags on, I have to try not to smile when Giles predictably clears his throat and begins.

“Well, Hope, Buffy tells us you’ve been a slayer for almost a year now?”

“Yes, I was called right about this time last year,” I answer. I see Giles cast a meaningful but brief look at my mother, who is visibly upset, but trying hard to hide it. I wasn’t sure how much guilt she would feel regarding the cover story we devised just for this purpose, but it really was the most logical and viable reason to explain my powers and abilities.

“And, did you already know you were a potential slayer when you were called?” He asks.

“Yes, I’ve pretty much known for as long as I can remember.” Which is true. They say that technically being a slayer can’t be passed from mother to daughter, but there are so few of us that there is no way to really know if that is the case or not. There actually was a documented case of a daughter being called when her mother, who was a slayer, died. Her mother was one of the oldest to be called and the daughter was one of the youngest ever to be called. That family was probably one of the worse tragedies in slayer history, and it gives me goosebumps every time I think about it.

“Hope? Are you ok, or do you need a moment?”

I glance up to see my mother staring at me with obvious empathy, and notice I’m unconsciously rubbing the goosebumps on my arms. I give them all what I am hoping is a reassuring smile, as I mentally reset my emotional thermostat. No sense letting my mind wander onto things I can’t do anything about now.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to zone out on you,” I say as I visibly and physically relax. “Where was I? Oh, yes, I’ve always known it was a possibility.”

“So, you were identified quite young?” Giles asks.

“I was,” I answer. “Practically right after I was born, it seems.”

“Remarkable!” Giles predicable response is both comforting and not.

“You have no idea,” I give him a droll little response. He seems mildly contrite.

“So did your parents give you to your watcher, too?” My mother asks, but doesn’t wait for an answer before she turns to Giles and asks, “Is that, like, a real thing? Some stuffy British guy shows up on someone’s doorstep and says, ‘Hey! Your daughter might be a future vampire slayer!’ and they’re all, ‘Well, that seems totally legit. Here, take my baby! You’re obviously much more qualified to raise her!”

“Really, Buffy, there’s no need to be quite so dramatic about it,” Giles gives her a decent eye roll.

“And how come the council can detect all these future slayers when they’re kids, but I don’t even get so much as a casual warning until I already had vampires showing up at my school?” She asks.

“While the council is continuously searching for new potential slayers, it does happen occasionally that our seers don’t detect the mystical energy signature until a slayer has already been called. You were far from the only case that happened to, Buffy.” He tries to reassure her, resulting in her giving him a rather dubious glare. “And I think it is really rather irrelevant to the current situation.”

She continues to glare at him a moment longer before turning her attention back to me.

“Yes, and no,” I answer.

“What?”

“My parents? Giving me to my watcher to raise?”

“Oh, yeah, that.” Gods, she’s adorable

“Yes and no. My parents were planning to raise me, but they died when I was very young. My watcher then raised me as his own after that. When I turned 20, it was assumed I was too old to be called, and he retired from the council after that. He died shortly before I was called.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that,” Giles offered a sympathetic look. “Who was your watcher, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Mr. Hopkins, sir. Gregory Hopkins.” I offered. He was a more obscure watcher in the annals, whose particular potential was never called, and he ended up dying of old age at the right time to work for the purposes of our cover story.

“Ah, yes. I seem to recall seeing the news of his death sometime last year.” He paused, as a thought seemed to occur to him, and I waited for him to ask the predictable question. “Whom did the council send to replace him when they became aware you were called?”

Now the trickier part of the story. If I don’t sell them all on this part of it, then they could blow my entire cover story wide open with just a few calls.

“About that…” I begin, and then trail off, waiting for one of them to take up the bait.

“They don’t know you’ve joined the apparently ever-growing slayer club, do they?” Uncle Xander is the one who bites.

“Makes sense,” Aunt Anyanka adds. Then, upon noticing all the glares from everyone that isn’t me, “Well, it’s what I would do if I suddenly found myself supernaturally inducted into a group of women who were exclusively used and controlled for the purposes of men.”

Each of the group gives her a nod of acceptance, if not understanding.

“No, they don’t know. I had been keeping up to date on Faith’s case and I was honestly very afraid that if the council knew another slayer had been called then they would have very little use for her, and would send in a wetworks team to do a full scrub. The poor girl apparently already died once, I didn’t want to be the reason she died a second time.”

“As much as I appreciate your consideration of Faith’s potential future with the council, Hope, I’m afraid I must insist on notifying the council of your status,” Giles objected, just as I knew he would.

Time to set the hook.

“I will definitely defer to your wisdom, but before you do, I would like to say something?”

He gives me an all too familiar measured look, and I know he is debating whether he should entertain my request or not. I decide to proceed without waiting for his answer.

“I know that Faith is currently serving time in prison for what she has done. She is trapped in a confined environment and is essentially a sitting duck at the moment. I am well aware of what she did to you all, and Buffy in particular. I can only imagine how I would feel in that situation. Nothing can make up for what she did. Not even her death.” I pause for a moment to let that sink in.

“I know I don’t have the history with Faith that you all do, but I know a whole other kind of history. I have been studying about slayers since I could first read, and there probably isn’t one I don’t know about, and Faith’s story is anything but abnormal.”

Giles starts to protest, and I hold my hand up to silence him and give him my best “don’t even try it” glare. He’s understandably shocked, and I continue before he can regroup.

“There’s a reason the council has not just one wet works team, but several. And that is on top of the regular capture teams that usually handle slayers and run of the mill vampires for the cruciamentum. There are, if I recall correctly, not less than ten, three and four man teams whose primary purpose is to track and hunt slayers, and eliminate them if the council orders it so.”

The group seems appropriately shocked at my revelation, except for Giles, of course, because he already knew all of that.

“I have read dozens of stories just like Faith’s. So many young women from unfortunate circumstances, and some from not so unfortunate circumstances, who didn’t conform to the council’s ideas when it came to what or who a slayer should be. Native American’s, low born’s, pacifists, mentally unstable, fell in love with the wrong person, born in the wrong country, or the wrong class, all somehow insufficient to meet the standards of the council. Sometimes the council decided to end them and hope the next slayer was better. Sometimes they just failed to train her the way they would others and point them at the most dangerous demons while secretly hoping they didn’t make it home that night.”

“Really, Hope,” Giles again tries to protest.

“I’m not done!” I send him a murderous glare. It’s risky as hell, but I’m not in a charitable mood at the moment. He gives me a glare of his own but doesn’t press me.

“Sorry. I get a little wound up thinking about the injustices perpetrated against so many young women who took their calling seriously but didn’t measure up to council standards,” I offer, looking back to my mother.

“Giles isn’t like that, Hope,” She asserts.

“No, he isn’t.” Mostly. Sort of. But he can be a righteous and closed minded prick when it comes to certain matters. But I can’t exactly tell them that, now can I?

“But, that doesn’t mean that what happened to Faith was unexpected or unexplained. Every one of these stories all have commonalities. Young women, slayers, who were called and wanted to do the best they could. They usually wanted nothing more than to be accepted by their watchers but were deemed unworthy for any number of reasons. From what I’ve read about Faith, her mother died, and her father was a deadbeat. She grew up fast and hard, essentially raising herself. Her watcher was probably the closest thing to a genuine loving parent that she’d had in years before she was killed. From there, I can only speculate, but if history is any guide, I can venture a good guess what happens next.”

“We were all there, so no need to give us the recap,” Uncle Xander says.

“Oh, but I think I do,” I answer. “She comes here in a panic, too ashamed to admit she couldn’t stop the death of her watcher and hoping that the penultimate slayer would help and protect her. She was probably begging in every way she could except with words, for love and acceptance, to be a part of something like what you have. When slayers accidentally kill human’s they tend to snap, sometimes only briefly, but sometimes not, because they can’t reconcile it within themselves. Faith was probably no different. So she separated herself from the group, and everyone helped increase the distance, rather than trying to intervene in a productive way. Someone else saw how much she was crying out for acceptance and seized the opportunity, earning themselves an extremely loyal slayer who was willing to do anything to keep receiving that love and acceptance from them. Am I close?”

“Scarily so,” My mother gives me a suspicious look. “But it was still her choice.”

“Yes, it was,” I temper the firmness in my voice. “But when the choice is to be on the outside and punished, versus being accepted and loved, it doesn’t feel like much of a choice at all. Human nature is always going to be to seek out those who will accept and love you. Slayers don’t just wake up one day and go rogue. Intentionally or not, they get pushed in that direction. I suspect that Faith wasn’t much different. A hundred little things that all added up in the long run to a rogue slayer, just as it has for innumerable others. The difference between her and us is usually a matter of where we come from and whether we have the right people who are willing to do the right thing to support us. I am not excusing Faith at all.”

“Funny, it sure sounds like it,” Uncle Xander snidely remarks, and I give him an indulgent smile.

“I’m sure it does, but I’m not. I’m also not excusing anyone else. My understanding is that she is now getting the help she needs, thanks to someone realizing what she needed and helping her see that she wanted and deserved it. Which is something that didn’t happen here in Sunnydale.” I can feel the tension in the room start to elevate. “I think that as slayers, we should give her not only a chance to pay for her crimes but to make amends as well. If the ones she hurt most can forgive and accept her, she can be one of our most powerful and loyal allies in the future. She can’t do that if the council sends in wetworks to get rid of her because they know they now have an alternative since the slayer line has moved on.”

I sit there quietly, as I see each of them contemplating all that I’ve said. I throw in my last card, hoping it will be the thing that tips the balance in my favor.

“And, I also don’t want them coming after me.”

I’m almost unable to stifle my laughter when I practically hear their heads snap up at that statement, including Giles’s.

“What makes you think the council would come after you?” Giles asks, seemingly more out of curiosity than wariness.

“Because I’m twenty-four.” I hear Aunt Anyanka’s not so silent gasp as I give Giles a very pointed look.

“Good lord! Twenty….” He trails off.

“Yes. Twenty-four. Twenty-five in just a few months,” I continue to stare straight at him. 

“Good lord!” Giles once again remarks. If I had a quarter for every time I heard him say that in my life so far…

“I’d have gone with ‘bloody buggering hell!’ but that works too,” I smile, knowing full well what he’s thinking.

“Ok, so, I’m guessing there’s something significant that you and Giles seem to know that I don’t?” My mother asks, looking between me and Giles as we continue to hold each other’s stares.

“You want to explain, or should I?” I ask him. “Or maybe even Anyanka? I bet she’d be much more candid about it.”

“Xander, I think this would be a great time for us to go somewhere,” Aunt Anyanka stands up and pulls on Uncle Xander’s hand.

“Where?” He asks her, oblivious to her obvious discomfort.

“Anywhere!” She answers pointedly.

“Giles?” My mother ignores them, her question to Giles is apparent, if unstated. I add an inquisitive look of my own, which seems to shock him out of his stupor.

“Sorry,” He hastily apologizes. “I, I just presumed you were closer to Buffy’s age, given how recently your calling occurred… Twenty-four?” He asks again, still apparently incredulous.

“Almost twenty-five,” I answer again.

“So, what’s the big deal with twenty-five?” Aunt Willow finally chimes in, with Aunt Tara nodding her agreement to the question. I’d been wondering when she was going to jump in. She isn’t quite as shrewd and calculating as the Aunt Willow I know, but she’s definitely on her way there.

“Yes, Giles, what’s the big deal with twenty-five? Why would I be so worried about a wetworks team coming after me that I refused to let the council know I’d been called?” I’m pretty sure that I’m wearing a tiny little knowing grin, and honestly I don’t care. After another moment, he capitulates with sigh.

“Mind you, this is considered more legend than fact,” He begins, only to earn a rather undignified snort from Aunt Anyanka, as she sits back down next to Uncle Xander. “But, there is some suggestion that in the past, slayers have been encouraged to retire upon their twenty-fifth birthday.”

“Retire?” My mother and I both say at the same time, though I’m betting for completely different reasons.

“That’s one way of putting it,” Aunt Anyanka adds, and I can’t help it as my smile widens.

“What Giles means,” I say, as I look at my mother. “Is that slayers were instructed that it was their duty to give themselves an honorable death for their twenty-fifth birthday, thus making way for a younger, less hardened, and in my opinion much more easily controlled slayer to be called.”

“And if they don’t?” Aunt Willow asks, looking rather horrified at the moment.

“Then the council sends someone to assist them,” I answer gently.

“I’m guessing that you don’t mean in the sense of actually being helpful,” Uncle Xander states the obvious.

“I guess that would depend on your definition of help,” Aunt Anyanka answers him, and this time I do laugh, much to the horror of everyone else present.

“It’s really just superstition.” Giles asserts, sending me a very clear look warning me to back off.

I look over at Aunt Anyanka, waiting for her to say the obvious. She doesn’t disappoint.

“Well, sure. If you don’t count the times it actually happened,” She says, rolling her eyes.

“Giles? Is she… are they... are they right?” My mother asks, clearly vulnerable.

Giles sighs deeply, as he pinches the bridge of his nose. For several seconds, I wonder if he is actually going to answer her, and I take a small amount of pity on him.

“If it’s any consolation, Buffy,” I give her my most reassuring smile. “I like to think I’m pretty good at reading people. And from what I can tell, I believe that Mr. Giles would move heaven and hell to prevent the council from getting ahold of you.”

She looks back at him again, and I notice the look on his face. It is one that I know well, even if I haven’t seen it in a couple of years, now. I have no doubt that he would have never allowed the council to get ahold of her, had she ever reached twenty-five. I really do believe he loved her like she was his own daughter. And I believe he loved me in much the same way. It is what led him to make some of the best decisions he ever made... and some of the worst.

“I would,” He softly answered. “Though, for what it’s worth, even if it were true I strongly doubt the council would even consider it, given that Faith is the current holder of the slayer lineage.”

I politely clear my throat. Have to keep up appearances here.

“Or, rather, was,” He sits back in his chair rather abruptly, giving me a calculating look. “I would assume that it now resides with you.”

I nod courteously.

“Which is why you don’t want me to inform the council that you’ve been called.”

“Yes,” I nod again. “But also because that will mean they have no reason not to be rid of Faith. Since she was in a coma and is now presently incarcerated, they can focus on Buffy. They have plenty of breathing room to allow the state of California to deal with her, while Buffy carries on with the slayer mantle. They will assume that when she eventually falls if Faith has not been adequately rehabilitated, they can simply kill her and trigger a new slayer. If they know about me, they have no need at all to see if Faith is rehabilitated. They can kill her at will and then come after me in a few months.”

“What I don’t get is why are you so hung up on helping Faith? I mean, she tried to kill all of us.” Uncle Xander asks as he leans forward, resting his forearms on his knees.

“It isn’t just Faith,” I answer him, gravely. “It’s every slayer who never got the chances that Buffy and I did. The ones who didn’t understand what was expected, or why. The ones who just wanted to live one more day, but didn’t get to. The ones who were taken from their families far too soon,” I look at my mother. “They all deserved another chance, or even a first chance, but didn’t get it. I just want to make sure Faith has that. Because I believe that deep down, she can become the slayer that everyone expected.”

“And you’d like to not die on your twenty-fifth birthday,” Aunt Anyanka adds.

“And I’d like to not die on my twenty-fifth birthday, yes,” I confirm.

Giles once again holds his glasses in his hand, as he studies me. I remain calm and unmoving. I’ve seen this look many times. He’s running all of the options through his head and trying to deduce the most appropriate course of action. He’s troubled by at least a one of them, but still considering it. This look used to intimidate me when I was a child. Usually, because I’d done something naughty or been disobedient and he was trying to figure out how to deal with me. But I’m not a little girl anymore, and I’ve learned over the years how to calm my inner thoughts so that it no longer unnerved me.

“Very well. I’ll not inform the council… yet,” He finally pronounced his judgment. “You’ve made a few points that are worthy of consideration before I take any further action.”

“Thank you!” My relief and enthusiasm are both real.

“But, you will report to me as your official watcher, just as Buffy does.”

I initially think about protesting, but then decide that doing so might draw his suspicion.

“Given the irregularity of the situation, I think that would be wise.” My answer clearly isn’t what he was expecting. “Given the advances of modern medicine, this may not be the last time there are two or even three slayers, so it seems prudent to appropriately document the circumstances for future generations of slayers. 

“Yes, quite right,” He stutters out. “Well, then. I think we’ve all had enough for one night. I suggest everyone get some rest and we’ll, uh, pick up with training and evaluations in the coming days?”

“I look forward to it,” I concede. T & E is one of my favorite things. Giles never could quite keep up, and it amused the hell out of me that he tried. Eventually, he started to suggest I was toying with him to keep him from feeling old. He wasn’t wrong.

“Buffy, why don’t you and Hope patrol together this evening. Perhaps begin to map out potential areas where you can work separately, or together, to make efficient use of the both of you?”

“Ok, sure,” My mother shrugs one shoulder as she stands. “I’m game if you are?” She asks, looking at me.

“Are you kidding? An opportunity to patrol with a legend? I’m practically giddy!” I tease her as I stand, and step closer. Though I am really anything but teasing. I get to patrol with my mother!

“I’m not really all that legendary,” She demures with an eye roll as she threads her arm around mine like we've been friends for years.

“Oh, but you are,” I insist as we walk out the door to go patrol. “You really are.”


	12. Chapter 11

_July 24, 2002_

“You seem to be acting much more like yourself lately,” I call to Spike as I pounce on the vamp I just flattened with a right roundhouse to his head. A quick stake to the heart and I’m brushing off vamp dust. “I mean, it’s been what… a whole 5 days since you’ve tried to talk to invisible people?”

“Seems whatever’s playing around with the ol’ gray matter decided to lay off a bit,” He says, as he dusts two vampires of his own, then sprints over to offer me a hand up. Even with slayer reflexes and agility, getting up off the ground is challenging at best.

As he became more lucid, both he and Giles were protesting daily that I shouldn’t be patrolling. But it isn’t like we still have the Buffy-bot to do it, and someone certainly has to. I’m guessing slayer healing will help with the whole healing after birth thing, but that will still mean at least a little while that I’m out of commission. I don’t want the whole town overrun with vampires when I do get back to patrolling. I’m just thankful she’ll be born in late summer. It’ll give me a chance to get back into ultimate slaying shape before the spring badness rears its ugly head.

We continue walking on, having cleared out the next to the last cemetery. Now we just have Shady Hill left to patrol. He and the others have been doing the majority of the heavy lifting as far as slaying goes, but he seems to understand that I’m not about to stop slaying no matter what anyone says and lets me take on one or two fledges every night. Though I have to admit, it’s getting harder and harder. That last fledge took me way more time and moves than it should have. But it feels good to keep moving and stretching. I think it gives her more room to stretch out, too, which helps to keep her from trying to break another rib or bruise my insides even more. Tara’s been showing me some stretches and even a few Yoga positions to help with that as well.

“Spike?” I try to get his attention as we continue strolling, my left arm around his right to help me with balance and minimize the embarrassing waddle I’ve developed.

“Hmm?” He answers distractedly, continuing his watchful vigilance of our surroundings.

“I know you don’t like talking about it,” I begin, and feel him instantly tense up. “Some sort of superstition thing, but I was wanting to ask if you had, you know, thought about names?”

I had broached the topic last week, and he’d been adamant about how he was definitely not talking about it. He said it was bad luck. Counting your chickens before they hatch sort of thing, and would just invite more bad luck, of which I already had plenty. I guess he isn’t necessarily wrong, but that didn’t help me any when it came to figuring out what to name our daughter.

As we continue walking, he continues to not answer my question. I can tell he’s still thinking about it because he’s still very tense. Coiled, even, and getting more so by the minute.

“I just… didn’t know if there was a family name or something that you might, you know, want to give her?”

He stops and turns his body a quarter turn to face me, his face a mix of warring awe and anger.

“Don’t have any family left, Buffy. And I don’t deserve to use their names, even if I did.”

All I can do is nod as he turns to resume our walk. This whole self-deprecating thing is new coming from him. He’s always been the cocky know it all who kept his insecurities on the inside, like the rest of us.

“So, help me pick out another name then. Any favorite people? Actors, famous people, best friend, that sort of thing? Though, I’m warning you now that I’m not naming her Nancy. Or Sid for that matter.”

He barks out a short little laugh at my joke.

“Maybe someone you think would be a good role model? Someone with both brains and beauty? Vivid and full of life, but not a total pain in the ass?”

“Well, there is this one chit I know,” He starts.

“Oh?” I can’t help the shock and smidge of jealousy in my voice.

“Gorgeous, strong, doesn’t get near enough credit for her smarts, either.”

“And who might that be?” I register that I’m starting to sound a little green.

“Name’s Buffy,” He says like he wasn’t leading me into a trap the whole time. I give him a playful swat on his arm for being such a pain and get a more genuine laugh for my efforts.

“I’m serious!” I tell him. “I really don’t know what to name her. I don’t even really have a picture in my mind of what she’ll look like to sort of hold a name up against it and ask if she looks like a Betty, or Jane, or Whitney.”

“Whitney?” He sounds almost offended at the suggestion.

“Well, if you don’t help me pick one out, then you don’t get to complain, buster!” I assert.

“Can’t picture her?” He asks quietly, and I nod affirmatively.

He seems to contemplate that for a moment.

“Can’t stop picturing her, myself,” He answers.

“Really?” I ask out of curiosity. “That’s great! So tell me who she looks like!”

We continue walking silently for a while before he finally speaks again.

“It’s not one person. More of a cross,” He answers haltingly, still scanning the cemetery rather than seeming very invested in the question I’ve asked him. I mean, it’s his daughter too, right? Shouldn’t he want to have a say?

“Oh?” Yeah, that should keep him talking. Can you roll your eyes at your own self? Pretty sure I just did.

“Bit of a mix of Clara Bow and…” He glances at me as if he’s suddenly worried how I’ll react to the next name.

“And?” I prompt him.

“Vivian Leigh,” He answers, casting me another sideways glance to see how I’ll react. I scour my brain trying to figure out who those people are because neither one rings a bell. I hate to point out that he’s got a few decades on me, but I can’t come up with a face for either one.

“Oh? Vivian Leigh, huh?” I try to cover my lack of knowledge and make a mental note to look them both up later.

“Mmm, hmm. Saw her in person once,” He adds. “Was in Denmark at the time and Dru insisted we see Hamlet. Was set in the original castle, an' all.”

“You went to the theater? In a castle?"I ask. Surely he’s pulling my leg.

“No need to act so shocked, slayer. I’m not completely uncultured. ‘Sides, was a hell of a deal back then. Catch a nice quiet dinner while you take in a show, be gone before anyone realizes a few of the patrons didn’t just fall asleep from the boredom.”

I tighten my grip around his arm more than I mean to. He does this a lot lately. Remind me of things he’s done in the past. Like he’s trying to give me an excuse to get rid of him.

“Why do you do that?” I ask.

“What’s that?” He replies, quite intently not looking at me.

“Act like you need to remind me of what you are?” I clarify.

“More like reminding myself, pet.” He answers with more self-loathing in his voice.

“Are you afraid you’ll forget?” That seems an odd thought even for Spike.

“Just every moment I’m with you,” He says so softly I almost don’t catch it.

I stop and pull on his arm to make him turn and face me. 

“I could never forget, Spike. I also see that you’re so much more than that. I see the man you want to be, and I don’t think you realize that in some ways you already are.”

He turns his face away from me and takes a few deep breaths. A leftover habit that for some reason he never seemed to outgrow as a vampire.

“Spike?” When he doesn’t look at me I reach up and place a hand on his cheek and turn his face towards mine. “I believe in you. I see how you try every day to be a better man. Reminding me of what you are doesn’t change who you’ve become. I love you, Spike.”

I see the hope that flares in his eyes. For a moment, I think he’s going to lean down and kiss me. He seems like he wants to. Then just when I think he’s going to go for it, I see his eyes drop from mine to look down at the gigantic bump between us, and he stops cold. After a second he backs up a half step and looks away, taking more deep breaths like he’s waging a war with himself.

I let go of his arm and throw my hands up as a sound of complete frustration grinds it way out of my throat, and I look up at the stars praying to whatever deity is up there to give me more patience.

“Did… did you just growl at me?”

I turn to see Spike staring at me with a look of shocked amusement.

“Yes! Yes, I did!” I answer him. “Do you have any idea how hard this is for me?” Yes, I’m being selfish at the moment and really don’t give a damn.

“You think this is easy for me?” Now he’s pissed off. Good, at least I know what to do with a pissed off Spike. I haven’t a clue what to do with mopey, guilty, Spike.

“Well, it’s gotta be easier than what I’m doing!” I point to my bump with both hands. “Your daughter uses my ribs like a springboard and packs a hell of a kick! And a punch, and an elbow, and a knee, and I’m beginning to think she’s planning to punch her way out like that thing from the Alien movies!”

“It’s got nothing to do with that, slayer!” He’s starting to raise his voice.

I’m actually a little proud of myself at the moment. Last fall, I’d be punching him in the nose right about now. Stupid vampire!

“Really?” My own voice is getting pretty loud, too, but I’m not punching him.

“Yes, really!”

“They why is it every time I think you’re going to do something, you look at this ginormous thing,” I put my hands on either side of my bump, “and back off like you can’t stand to be near me?” My righteous indignation starts to waver as the next words sort of fall out of my mouth without passing my brain. “I’m beginning to think you don’t want one or both of us.”

Well hell, now I’m crying again. Stupid hormones. For several seconds I don’t look at him, but when I do, it almost makes me laugh because apparently, he’s completely gobsmacked.

“You think I don’t want you?” He’s asking in that tone that suggests I’ve got the IQ of a 3-year-old.

“Well, what am I supposed to think, Spike? You tell me, because I’m done guessing.” I lock eyes with him again and send him my best resolve face. It isn’t as good as Willow’s, but it’ll have to do.

I watch as a dozen different feelings play across his face, running the gamut from shock, to anger, to curiosity, to fear, to hope, to resignation. I don’t know what the heck is running through his mind, but it’s almost enough to make me dizzy just watching it play out. Finally, he turns his back to me, and puts his hands on his hips, and stands there frozen. I hear him swallow a few even bigger breaths, then he runs his left-hand through his hair, messing it up and turning it into a riot of small loose curls on one side before running it over his face and then back to his hip again.

“What am I supposed to think, Buffy?” He turns his head towards me and asks softly over his shoulder.

“Ummm…” Well, I’m lost. No idea what he’s talking about.

“Before I left,” He turns and faces me again. “All I kept hearing was how I’m nothing but a monster. How you can’t love me. Avoided me for a damn month after you found out. Hell, you even let Giles talk about shutting me out of the whole thing without saying a single word.”

I’m starting to get a little worried now because his tone is getting softer and more certain rather than angry.

“Then I come back, half out of my head, and suddenly I’ve gone from persona non grata to livin’ in your basement like I’m the bleedin’ nanny, all because I’ve got this soddin' soul.” He puts his hand over his heart for a second, though I don’t think he realized it. “Got news for you slayer, just because I can barely live with myself doesn’t mean this soul has changed who or what I am.”

He pauses, and I can almost make out the beginnings of tears gathering in his eyes.

“But it has changed what I do. And no matter how much of an itch you’ve got that you want scratched,” He glances down at my bump and tilts his head to the right just a smidge and frowns, “though to be fair you probably can’t… reach…” He glances back up at my face, and the new expression I’m wearing that just dares him to finish that sentence.

“Uh,” He shakes his head back and forth a couple of times then looks back at my bump again. I can’t help it, I’m amused.

“Yo, ADHD guy!” I prompt him to finish his little tirade.

“Sorry,” He frowns again and looks back up at my face, his own look turning earnest again. “I can’t go back, Buffy. I won’t go back. I tried to be what you wanted, kept thinkin’ that if I just tried harder, you’d finally see it… see me…” He pauses to take another breath. “Tried everything I could think of… but it was never enough, was it? And all it did was hurt the both of us.”

“Spike…” I don't know what I planned to say to that, but his look cuts me off before I can.

“Then I show back up with this soul, and suddenly I’m worthy? I’m good enough for the slayer to try and suss out what’s got my noggin’ all scrambled? Defend me against your mates? Good enough to be making moon eyes and acting like you want me... like we’re...“ He looks up at the sky and sucks in a ragged breath. “I can’t do it again, Buffy. Can’t let you use me like that again.” He looks back at me with raw and earnest emotion. “With the soul and all… don’t think I could take it when you realize I’m still the same person I was before I left, and…I can’t, Buffy…” He turns away again and sticks his hands in his pockets. The gesture has the feeling of finality to it. “I won’t.”

I don’t know what to say. He’s not wrong. I mean, he is but he isn’t. But I don’t know how to explain that to him. But I have to try.

“I know,” I begin, and notice his back tenses up just a fraction. Good. That means he’s listening. “And you’re right. About everything. Well… most of it.” I see his head turn just a fraction toward me. “We can’t go back to what that was. And I don’t want to.” He turns a little more, and I see he’s frowning. Whether in confusion or anger, who knows. “You deserve better than that. You deserved better before you even left, I just… I didn’t have it in me to give for the longest time. And then, when I realized that I did have feelings for you, I... well, I couldn’t wrap my head around it. That’s what I was trying to do all those weeks that I avoided you. I just, I couldn’t think when I was around you. All I could do was want and take, and I knew that wasn’t going to be enough for either of us.” I know my voice is getting shaky, but I have to get this all out. “Then, when you left, I kept thinking about everything you said that night. I think that’s when I finally stopped denying everything... to myself, to Giles, to anyone. And once I got rid of that… that wall… I realized… I’ve loved you for a long time.”

“Buffy…” He tried to interrupt, turning away again.

“I mean it, Spike. I think, I first realized it back when Riley showed up. It’s why I went running to you that night.”

He suddenly turns half around again, giving me a curious look. I smile in return.

“I knew,” I whispered. “And it scared the hell out of me,” I put a little more solidity in those words because it really, really, did. “I know… I know I treated you like a monster, and you weren’t completely innocent in what went on between us, but between the two of us, I was the bigger monster.”

“Buffy,” He’s facing me now, and I know he’s about to tell me how wrong I am.

“No!” I interrupt him before he can. “I was. I was using you. And I’m sorry… really… sorry.” Damn tears are starting to cloud my vision again. “But I’m not saying I love you because you’ve got a soul, or because having one suddenly makes you worthy, or because I need a nanny. And I’m definitely not saying it to get you to… uh... scratch… my… uh, itch... though god knows you’re not wrong about that either,” I mumble the last part out and belatedly hope he didn’t hear it.

The great irony of the last trimester of pregnancy is apparently that it turns some people into a horny teenager again, but makes you too tired and achy to even attempt the gymnastics required when you’re lacking a partner.

“My point is, it isn’t about any of that, Spike.” I step closer to him. “It’s about you. And about me finally seeing what was in front of me all along. And if you can ever forgive me, I really want to give us a chance. A real chance. I want you here with me, soul or not, because I can’t imagine my life without you, and I don’t want to. So… can we? Can you give me a chance to prove to you that I really mean it when I say that I love you?”

We stand there staring at each other for what feels like hours. I don’t say anything, because at this point I don’t know what there is left to say. The next move is really his to make. And I tell myself that if it isn’t the one I want, then I’ll have to be ok with it. That I’ve earned whatever judgment he gives me. But I’m not sure I can be ok if he walks away, so I’m really hoping he doesn’t.

Finally, he turns away again, putting his hands to his face, as if he’s trying to hide it. He exhales a huge sigh and then lets his hands drop to his sides and stands there.

“I want to,” He finally says. “Just don’t know if...”

Suddenly, I really want to be anywhere but here. I’m barely even aware of the sound that escapes me as I process the consequences of everything I’ve done, but I try to stifle it by covering my mouth and nose with one hand. I take a couple of steps back and turn. My feet take me a couple of steps further as I try to gather up some sort of momentum, but it’s like slogging through molasses. Just as I finally manage to get my legs moving along in what probably passes for running, I crash into something solid.

It grabs my upper arms and holds them tight, and I try to fight it. But then it wraps its arms around me and crushes me to it and doesn’t let go. It takes me a few seconds to notice that the thing I’ve crashed into has one hand holding my head to his chest and is saying something. When the words finally filter through, I realize it’s Spike. And he’s holding me, and gently swaying just slightly, with words tumbling out of his mouth about being a bloody idiot, and didn’t mean it like that, and please stop crying.

I’m not sure how long we stand there like that, with me trying to soak his shirt, and him just holding me like he hasn’t done in… well, I don’t remember when or if I ever let him hold me like this. And the longer I stand there, the more it feels like it’s where I belong. It’s home. But I’m afraid to let go because I don’t know what comes next.

“Pet?” I hear him trying to get my attention now that I’ve mostly stopped with the tears and am just a sniffling mess. “Buffy?” I’m terrified to look up, and bury my head deeper in his chest. “Slayer?” I shake my head. I’m not going to look at him. I don’t want to see his face and know.

But he’s not having it. He somehow manages to peel me away from him, holding me at arm's length, asking me to please look at him. When I shake my head again, he lets go of one arm and cups my chin with his free hand, bringing my face up towards his, and I screw my eyes shut as tight as they’ll go.

“Buffy… open your eyes, luv… please…” His voice is soft but commanding.

I shake my head as much as I can.

He lets go of my other arm and places his hands on either side of my face.

“Buffy… please… look at me…” He says, but this time his voice is so very gentle and pleading.

I can’t. A few more tears crash onto my cheeks and I feel his thumbs gently sweep them away. And then I feel the slightest pull from his hands, and suddenly his lips are touching mine in what can only be described as a gentle caress. Soft and sweet, and giving without demanding anything in return. And then they are gone.

I slowly open my eyes and am met with a look so intense and raw and earnest that it almost takes my breath away. I can’t form any words, but he must have seen the question I wanted to ask.

“We’ll both give it a chance this time,” He says, as one end of his mouth quirks up in the smallest of smiles, and his eyes hold a question of hope in them.

All I can do is nod my head in acceptance. I won’t let him down. Not this time. He deserves better. I think maybe, even, that we both do.

And now he’s kissing me again. Still so chaste and sweet at first, but going just little longer, and promising a little more. When he ends the kiss, he pulls me into his arms again, and I can’t help but melt into them.

After several long minutes that way he says that we should head back to the house. I nod my agreement and step back from him. He drops his hand down to grasp mine, and he brings it up and folds it around his forearm as he turns and takes a step. We walk the rest of the way home in companionable silence, with me leaning against his arm, clinging to him like the lifeline he is, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

Once we make it into the house, there’s an awkward silence as neither of us knows quite what to do now. He finally suggests I should go on up to bed and turns to head for the basement himself.

“Spike!” I call out to him, sounding way more desperate than I intended to.

He freezes for a second and then turns back around.

“Can you… I mean, can we maybe… sit and watch TV a little?” It isn’t what I wanted to say, but then again, I’m not sure what I really wanted to say. I just know I didn’t want to go upstairs and be alone again all night. I want to hold onto this moment, this feeling, just a little longer.

He searches my face, trying to figure out what I’m asking, I guess. Seeming satisfied, he gives me a soft smile.

“Yeah. We can do that."

I climb on the couch, and reach for the remote, turning the TV on and turning the volume down almost as low as it will go and wait for him. He tentatively sits next to me and puts his arm on the back of the couch behind me. I hand him the remote and snuggle into his side as much as I can. He’s so solid and cool and yet soft and yielding at the same time, and I surrender to the insistent call of sleep, feeling safe and loved and maybe not exactly happy yet, but definitely hopeful.

Definitely.


	13. Chapter 12

_June 29, 2000_

Ah, the lovely haze and heat of southern California in the summer. It’s actually not that bad. Heck, patrolling in this climate is actually a fairly nice gig. Coastal California is pretty temperate for the most part, and the nights are even pleasant. The breeze off the ocean to the west and the hills to the east make it pretty ideal for nightlife, actually. I’ve been to several parts of the world, and this is a pretty sweet spot if I do say so myself.

Now, if you were in New Orleans this time of year, you wouldn’t step foot outside except at night. Which is probably why the city’s supernatural outnumbered the humans. New York is a toss-up. That city was practically built for both its daytime human life, and its demon nightlife. Lots of intermingling going on there, not unlike a lot of the really big cities around the world. I love London, you never get bored patrolling there, even if it is now one of the last major fortified human habitations in the world. But winters there are definitely nothing like winter here.

Still, it’s amazing how well people and demons can live and socialize together as long as everyone is willing to pretend everything’s normal, and no one goes all homicidal. Which of course cuts out some of the more dangerous demons, but that’s life for you. I mean, yeah, in my time we pretty much have to get along and work together to survive or we’d all be wiped out by now, but even in this time and in the right setting, people and demons aren’t terribly different at the end the day... or night.

Speaking of nightlife, my mother and I have settled into a nice little routine of patrolling. We'll usually meet up at this coffee shop downtown, chat a bit, catch up on the previous night's slaying, if any, since summers are kind of dead here. No pun intended. We sweep the big three together and then split up to clear the other nine as we head to our sweet, or not so sweet, abodes. There are five cemeteries in her direction, and four in mine; most of them smaller, older, and less popular with the demon community. For a town of around forty thousand, the twelve cemeteries do seem a bit much, but I guess with the Hellmouth there’s always a need. Too bad I don’t have a bit of investment money or I’d sink it into a cemetery and funeral home here. It’s got to be a pretty lucrative business. I mean, I can only imagine how many times they sell the same plots. I'm betting Sunnydale even has its own set of rules and standards for handling the bodies and the paperwork since the dead seem to be pretty intent on digging themselves up.

But hey, looks like tonight is my lucky night! There’s a group of what appears to be four guys all standing next to a fairly fresh grave off in the distance, and they have yet to notice I’m approaching them. This is actually a treat for me. Not many nests around here grave sit while waiting for the newly turned to rise. So this is either a very new group or a very old one. However, extending my senses out, it doesn’t feel like any of them are particularly old. Certainly not as old as the one that’s been hanging out just beyond what he thinks is the range of my senses. I've been sensing him off and on for a few weeks now. Usually, I'll pick up his signature as my mother and I are patrolling Shady Hill or Memorial, and he'll follow along. Sometimes he follows me after we separate, sometimes not. Three guesses who he's following when he isn't tailing after me. Actually, I should tail him one of these nights just to see.

Anyway, back to these guys who are way too focused on whomever they’re waiting to rise to even notice a newcomer. As I get closer I focus my senses to see if the grave they are watching is showing signs of life. It’s not. Not yet, anyway. It takes a while to dig yourself out of a grave. Not something I’d personally want to try, but I’ve watched and heard it enough times to know that even in desperation, it’s not a quick or easy task. At least the vampires don’t require oxygen. I can only imagine what my mother must have been feeling when they resurrected her.

“So, what are we thinking?” I say as I step right into the middle of the row of four vampires all staring down at the grave, and join them in their studious watch. “Another 15 minutes or so before…” I glance over the marker, “Bryan here decided to join the party?”

It takes almost everything in me to not bust out laughing as four sets of golden eyes turn to look at me, but I manage it. This isn’t my first rodeo after all. So I keep my eyes plastered to the grave with a completely serious look of concentration. Nope, Bryan isn’t awake yet. But not far off either if the energy coming off the grave is any indicator.

“Who the hell are you?” One of the vampires asks, clearly confused.

“Who me?” I ask, looking up at him. “I’m just with the delivery service,” I shrug.

“What?” Another one asks, probably not the brainiest of the bunch.

“Well, see, I’ve got this special delivery birthday gift here,” I say as I retrieve one of my stakes. “And it’s got Bryan’s name all over it. But, I guess there’s no reason he can't share it with everyone!” I say with a wicked little smile.

If I didn’t have enhanced hearing, I wouldn’t have heard the tiny little snicker that came from the tree line to my left just a split second before a chorus of growls erupts, and quickly goes from four vampires to three before they even know what hit them. With a laugh, I take off running towards the warehouse district.

I dodge in, around, and over the markers, headstones, and crypts, going just fast enough to stay plenty ahead of them, but not so fast I lose them. After all, it’s no fun chasing something you can’t catch them! And too much speed would also raise suspicions. Before long, I’m heading into the alleys between the warehouses, drawing on my mental map of the area to decide the best place for the final showdown. But first, I need to even the odds a little.

I slow my pace just enough as I head into another alley, making sure I give the one in the lead a chance to see me turn. I abruptly stop and whip around against the edge of the building. I hold my breath, waiting and listening for my guest to run right into my trap. I hear his rapid footsteps approaching as I close my eyes and count off the seconds in my head. It’s practical child’s play for me, as I mentally gauge the necessary height, and pop my hand straight out, stake pointing toward the street right as vamp number one comes around the corner at a full speed. He’s dust before he’s even aware he’s been staked.

“And then there were two!” I laugh.

I step forward, noting that the other two are slightly further behind than I originally anticipated, in fact, one of them has slowed quite a bit and let the other take the lead in this chase. At least now I know who to watch for. I blow them a kiss as I take off down the alley, hopping over the fence as I hear their growls of anger and frustration reverberate off the high walls on either side.

“Almost show time,” I mumble to myself, calculating the time and distance to the alley I have in mind. It’s a dead end, with walls on three sides and a loading dock at the end. The only way out is either the entrance or up. I keep checking behind me, making sure they are still at the distance I want them. A few blocks away I hear the vamp at the end give orders for his partner to go left and cut me off, and the change brings a smile to my face. It’ll actually make this much easier.

I can hear the first vamp pushing his speed to try and cut me off so they can sandwich me in between them. I put a little extra burst into my own speed, making sure I end up right at the mouth of the boxed alley as he rounds the corner in front of me, while the other one is still trying to catch up.

I deliberately skid to a halt as vamp number one starts coming toward me. I make an overly loud sound akin to a whimper and look around wildly like I have no idea where I’m at. I spot vamp number two finally round his corner and slow his pace. I start glancing back and forth between them, continuing my little whimpers as I start to back rapidly into the alley, trying to look like I’m panicking.

Two seconds later, vamp number one comes charging into the box alley and skids to a halt himself. He starts stalking towards me with a toothy and menacing grin as I continue backing up, looking wildly around like I’m trying to find an escape. My back finally hits the loading dock right about the time he catches up to me. I put my hands behind me, and lean back as he gets closer and closer, and I accidentally on purpose drop my stake.

“Nowhere left to go, little girl,” He lisps around his fangs, and once again I’m seized by the urge to laugh my arse off.

“Please! Don’t hurt me!” I plead in my best whimpering tone.

“Oh, we’re gonna do more than hurt you.” He says as he’s practically in my face and starting to lean into me.

I do start to laugh but manage to turn it into something that sounds like a sob. God his lisp is going to blow this whole thing if I can’t keep it together. Good thing the effort I'm putting into not laughing is bringing tears to my eyes.

"You play a dangerous game, slayer..." I hear a quiet observation from somewhere up and to my right.

Vamp number one reaches out and grabs a hand full of my hair. What is it with vamps and hair pulling? I reward him with a sharp cry for good effect.

“No! No! No! Please! Please, don’t!” I’m crying out to him now.

He leans back and laughs, then sensing vamp number two enter the alley, he turns and gloats to him. “I love it when they beg!”

Before he knows it, I’ve managed to spin us around and now he’s the one pinned against the loading dock.

“Me too,” I grin at him, as I shove my other stake up under his sternum and right into his heart. He’s only got enough time to mutter a brief, “How the…” before his dust is drifting on the breeze.

I spin around, and get a good look at vamp number two, feeling him out while I’m at it. He’s not new, but he’s not old either. Probably turned about twenty years ago by the feel of him. Old by Sunnydale standards, but not by mine.

“Sadly, I just can’t make myself wait long enough to hear it before I stake them,” I shrug. "I blame it on the ADHD."

Vamp number one stops cold in his tracks. Ah, so he’s got more than just survival instinct. That’ll make things interesting.

“So, I’m guessing you’re the big daddy vamp?” I ask him. “Tell you what, since I know you’re waiting on your newest little addition, I’ll give you a choice. Fight? Or Fly?”

He’s clearly trying to figure out his best course because I can practically see his thoughts on his face. Should he run and live to fight another day? Maybe turn a couple of locals to replace the three I just staked? Should he fight and try to take me out now so he doesn’t have to worry about the next time?

“Tick tock here pappa bear,” I wave my stake back and forth like a pendulum. “Don’t have all night! Your childe’s probably waking up right about now and about to climb out of his grave, so what’s it gonna be?”

I see the moment he finally decides and I know… His eyes take on a determined glint and he begins to charge towards me. He’s going to go for it.

“Wrong answer,” I mumble as I shake my head slightly. I’d have pegged him for a runner, but I can’t always be right, now can I? Ah well, at least I’ll get in a decent fight tonight.

The guy’s actually not half bad. He’s managed to land a hell of a kick to my right side that I’m pretty sure cracked a rib. I’m also pretty sure I’m going to be sporting a bruise on my right temple, to match the wicked one on my left shin that I can already feel blooming. He’s had some mixed martial arts training or maybe just kickboxing, which is a nice challenge but I’m going to be a little sore in the morning. Haven't had to do much kickboxing the last couple of years.

I’m beginning to feel kind of bad that I’m about to stake him. Not bad enough to stop me, but still. He cares about his family and takes the time and effort to be there when they rise. He keeps them together and functioning as a unit. Heck, he probably even helps the new ones feed the first time. He must have been turned by a much older vamp at some point, and probably not in Sunnydale. Sunnydale just doesn’t seem to really do families. Good for us, bad for them. Ah well, que sera sera, right?

“Last chance, dude,” I offer him, as I finally get him boxed between the loading dock and a dumpster.

“For you maybe,” He grinds out and then charges.

I sigh as I send a left hook straight to his head, followed by a quick spin and drop to sweep his legs out from under him with my right leg. It sends him crashing to ground on his back. A quick arcing thrust and I drive my stake home, job done.

I head for the mouth of the alley, focusing on my senses again and noting that my observer is still right on the edge of my periphery. On the building to my right if I’m not mistaken. Guess I’m not the only one who’s noticed no one in this town looks up. I wonder why that is? Maybe they’re too busy wondering about what’s below them instead. If they only knew…

I make my way back to the cemetery and lean against a nearby headstone as I wait for Bryan to finish digging his way out of his grave. I can tell he’s been working at it a while, as the dirt is now moving quite a bit, undulating as he twists and turns and digs. Finally, one hand pops out and then the other. He claws and scratches around trying to find purchase to pull himself up and out. After a few more seconds his head breaks the surface, and then he’s pulling his torso out, and his legs follow quickly.

He lays there a minute, digging dirt out of his mouth and eyes before looking around in confusion and wonder.

“Hi, Bryan,” I give him a smile.

He frowns as he stares at me.

“Yeah, not your family, I know. Sorry, they couldn’t be here. But, hey, at least you’re not alone on your new birthday, right?” I give him a smile.

He nods at me, still looking pretty dumbfounded.

“Can you feel it?” I ask him.

“What?” He asked.

“Everything,” I smile again, waving my hands. “Feel it, smell it, hear it, taste it? All overwhelming your senses and feeding into that brain of yours as it begins to process the fact that you’re dead, and yet you feel more alive than you ever did as a human.”

He seems to take a moment to think about that. Then he looks up at me, and I see the voracious glint in his eyes.

“Really? What I feel is hungry!” He growls out as he jumps to his feet. “And you smell like food.”

“I do, don’t I?” I acknowledge. “But before we do this, let me ask you a question?”

“Uh,” He pauses, seemingly taken aback that I’m not afraid of him. “Sure, ok.”

“You have family, Bryan? Human family?”

“Yeah,” He sneers and jeers.

“Are they food?” I ask him seriously.

“Definitely,” He gives me a very fangy grin, and I can both feel and hear the hunger in his voice.

“I thought so,” I sigh. “It’s powerful, isn’t it? The hunger? But you can control it. The question is... do you want to?”

He looks at me like I’ve lost my mind. Sadly, it’s not the first, or the last time I’ll ever see that look in answer to my question. But at least I gave them all a chance.

“Well, Bryan,” I hold out my hand to shake his as I step forward. “It’s been nice meeting you.”

He reaches out and grabs my hand, then predictably jerks me towards him, unwittingly sealing his fate as I bring the stake in my left hand up in between us, impaling him as I crash forward.

“Bye, Bryan.”

His shocked expression is fleeting and then the night air picks up his ashes and wisps them away.

I finish my round in relative solitude and then head for my little room at the crappy little motel. Just as I’m digging my key out of my pocket, I once again note the now familiar signature that’s been following me off and on the last few of weeks, and I can’t help but smile.

“Correct me if I’m wrong,” I raise my voice just enough that I know he’ll hear me clearly. “But I thought stalking was supposed to be more of an Angelus thing?”

I hear another little snicker, to my left again; but he says nothing.

“I know you’re there, Spike. You have a question, or you trying to best Angelus at the whole skulking in the shadows thing?”

“I’m not skulking,” I hear his indignance in his reply. “Not stalking either,” He asserts as he ambles around the side of the building.

“Oh good!” I answer as I turn around and face him. “So, it isn’t you that’s been following me around?”

“There’s a difference between stalking and studying.” I can almost hear the righteousness in his voice.

“Meh, six of one, half a dozen of the other,” I tease him. “You know, if you want to patrol with me, I don’t mind. At least then you wouldn’t have to hide in the shadows. And besides, who better to help me perfect my technique than the slayer of slayers?”

“Please,” He gives me an exaggerated eye roll, “Why would I want to do that. I kill slayers, not help them.”

“True, but that’s not exactly a possibility at the moment, is it?” I give him a knowing look.

“Maybe not right now…” I see the muscles in his jaw twitch as his anger rises and his eyes take on a dangerous... no, vicious... look. “But one day, this chip’ll be gone, and then you and the other slayer will be singin' a very different tune.”

I try to give him a serious look of consideration. Then I can’t help it.

“Yeah, whatever,” I shrug. “So, did you enjoy the show?” I ask him as I absentmindedly twirl my key ring.

“I’ll give you props for your acting there, Hedy,” He gives me an appreciative look, as his left eyebrow quirks up. “But you’re playing a dangerous game. One wrong move and either of those vampires could have had themselves the best day of their unlives,” He offers.

“Heady?” I ask. “What the heck does that mean?”

He rolls his eyes again as he mumbles something under his breath about how no one remembers the classics.

“What classics?” I ask, realizing a little belatedly that his little mumble was probably on the lower threshold of human hearing.

“Forget it,” He says, and turns to leave.

“Oh no you don’t!” I start walking after him. “You started it, and now you have to finish it.” It dawns on me, again belatedly, that a slayer probably wouldn’t go chasing after him. “What do you mean I’m heady?

“Didn't say you were heady you daft chit... Called you Hedy, as in Hedy Lamarr?" He looks at me expectantly. “The actress?”

“Hedy Lamarr?” I parrot as I search my brain for historical references. “Hedy Lamarr… Hedy Lamarr… Hedy… Oh! Hedy Lamarr! Austrian born actor inventor," I ramble off as I see the text in my head. "Who helped pioneer technology in World War Two to prevent the Allied's torpedo guidance systems from being jammed. Her work later played a significant part in the development of wireless technology.”

“Uh, yeah, that’d be her.” He confirms as he stares at me with a rather odd look on his face.

“Cool! So why’d you call me Hedy?” I ask, still not understanding how we got from critiquing my moves to an early 20th-century actress.

“Just favor her a bit, is all,” He answers with a shrug.

"Oh. Hmm, guess I'll have to look her up. I've never seen a picture of her. Does she look anything like Katherine Hepburn?" I ask out of curiosity. "My watcher used to say I bore a striking resemblance to a young Katherine Hepburn."

"Hepburn?" He gives me a critical look, and then shakes his head. "Guessing it was more attitude than looks," He gives me a pointed glare.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

He gives me a long-suffering sigh in answer. "When you look up Hedy, check out Kate while you're at it." He tells me then starts walking away again.

“So,” I fall in step as he continues walking, and I see him give me an appraising glance, which I choose to ignore. “What did you think, though? About my fighting?” I’m sort of dying to know.

“I think you’re looking for an early grave, the games you’re playing.” He pauses for a moment. “Still… definitely got a bit a style. Wouldn’t let the slayer… uh, Buffy, that is… catch you playing games like that. Or the watcher.”

“Yeah, Giles is a bit of a wet blanket,” I concede.

“That’s an understatement,” He says, following a rather indignant little snort. “If he saw you playing cat and mouse like you were tonight, he’d probably twist your head off himself.”

"Can't be worse than the dressing down he gave me about snapping that soldier's neck. I told him the guy was already down about 4 pints, and missing some critical pieces, but he just kept going on about how my duty is to focus on the dead, not the living." I roll my eyes.

He stops dead in his tracks and gives me another odd look. Crap. What did I say this time?

“Anyway, those guys in the alley were nothing." Moving right along... "I had it all under control,” I add a little indignantly.

“I noticed,” He answers, all nonchalant as he resumes his pace. “Also noticed you gave that fledge a chance.” He glares at me. “Bloody ignorant, that. Watcher’d definitely have your head.”

“Yeah, he would,” I answer. “But... I gave him the same chance I give all the newborns.”

It takes me a moment to notice he’s stopped walking, again, and I turn to look at him. Now he's looking at me like I'm stupid.

“You do know you’re supposed to stake ‘em, right? They’re vampires, luv, not mates.”

I can’t help but flinch at his choice of words.

“Well, well, well...” His voice instantly perks up. “Seems like there’s more to you than meets the eye.”

Damn, he is an intuitive one.

“So what’s your story, luv?” His voice is taking on a teasing tone. “Old boyfriend get turned?” He’s circling around me, every bit the predator now that he’s sensed a weakness. “Did you have to stake the boy?” He leans in and whispers.

But I'm not a little girl, and two can play this game.

“Actually," I lean in and whisper myself, "He was already turned,” I step back and give him a wink. “Apparently some vampires are good for a lot more than just... staking.” I put an extra lurid emphasis on the last word. “Can you imagine it? All that raw power? Slayer and vampire, perfectly matched? Heart, mind, and... body? Mmmm, mmm, mmm… damn, I miss that man.” I briefly close my eyes, seeing said man's face, and mentally send him another apology. "Love doesn't make the world go 'round, but it sure makes the ride worthwhile."

When I open my eyes again, I see that my father's eyebrows are trying to escape off the top of his forehead, and I can’t help but laugh.

“Damn, you’re so easy!” I laugh even harder, holding my sides now, and watch as his anger starts to climb as high as his eyebrows were. In fact, if looks could kill, I’d be dead right about now. Which is a little sobering, too.

“Look, Spike, I never did buy into the whole 'vampires are universally evil, can’t love, can’t feel,' crap that the council sold. They’re idiots. I know about the suck houses, and the bagged blood crowd, and the nests that stay under the radar by only going after the dregs or just catch and release. I'm more than familiar with the fact that there are a dozen ways to feed your hunger other than draining someone. I’m perfectly aware that demons come in all the shades of grey. That’s why I give the newborns a chance. I know some of them are still themselves, just differently animated. They may the exception rather than the rule, but they do exist. So I give them a chance.”

And now he’s frowning at me. Or is that curiosity? Who knows.

“So now you know… not all slayers are black and white. Some of us live in the grey. For good reason.” Hell, some of us are the grey.

And with that thought, I turn and leave him, heading back towards my dinky little room. I unlock the door and slip inside, locking it behind me. That was too close. I’ve fallen into a comfortable and easy rhythm with my mother. We're actually developing a pretty nice friendship and I'm getting to know all about her in ways that the stories just can’t do. And all without having to give away who or what I am.

My father, though? That’s going to be a tough one.


	14. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Warning - character death**

_August 24, 2002_

“This is pointless, Giles, he doesn’t know anything!” I say as I move to unchain Spike. “Your prophylactic stone didn’t work.”

“Because he's not cooperating!” Giles answers with all the melodramatics I think he can muster. “This process takes time. He's blocking whatever's flooding his consciousness. And what he does… he's endangering us all!”

“So, the trigger’s still active?” Angel asks, staring at Spike in his usual blank slate way.

“Much as ever,” Giles gives him a staunch look.

Ugh! These two are the biggest pains in my very wobbly and sore backside at the moment. When Spike vamped out and grabbed me, throwing me back, Angel thankfully caught me. Score one for vampire speed. But I’m pretty sure if it hadn’t been for having to do that he’d have put Spike’s lights out.

“Well, he’s obviously fine now. And we know the trigger. I’m unchaining him.” I give him my best resolve face and reach to unlock the chains.

“Think about what you’re doing,” Giles urges me, as the second cuff drops to the floor.

“I have!” I stand back up and give him a look that tells him to back the hell off as I try to waddle my way up the stairs one at a time, with Spike’s hand helping support me from the back.

“Buffy…” Gile just can’t leave it alone.

“Don’t!” I’m not going to give him a choice.

“Giles…” I hear Angel get his attention. “You got a moment?”

Good, maybe he can talk some sense into him. Or at least get him to back down. Giles has been a complete mess since he found out the chip doesn’t work on me. Acting like he’s absolutely certain that Spike’s just going to flip out one day and slaughter us all. It doesn’t seem to make a bit of difference how many times I tell him that Spike has a soul now.

He’s been on the phone with Angel a dozen times since then, just at the house. Which is a lot considering Angel apparently just spent the whole summer at the bottom of the ocean, thanks to his son. I’m not sure of all the details about that and don’t really want them, either. I guess Gile’s panic mode sent Angel into action mode because he showed up last night with this prophylactic stone thing to try and de-trigger Spike. At least Angel seems to be a lot more level headed than Giles, which is a kind of scary if I think about it.

As Spike and I top the stairs into the kitchen, I suddenly feel the need for something to take my mind off of everything. I sit at the island, propping my head upon my hands as I contemplate what I can do until nightfall. I really feel like killing something right now, but that’s not exactly an option.

“You alright?” Spike asks, tentatively and without looking at me. “You’re throat ok?”

“I’m fine,” I try to reassure him. I’m sure he’s mentally kicking himself right about now. The last several weeks he’s been doing his best to protect and help me without going overboard, unlike Giles. Maybe a visual will help soothe his guilt. I pull the neck of my shirt out of the way, so he can see. “Not even a tiny little bruise,” I smile.

“And the rest?” He asks, almost shy.

“Peachy with a side of keen as far as I can tell.” I try to lighten things up. “Besides, Angel took the brunt of it. His coat really cushions everything. Practically like hitting a pillow!” I smile at him.

“Good… good,” He answers. “Get you something to eat?” He asks as he starts rifling through the cabinets.

“Spike?” I watch him freeze for a second, then continue on.

“Hmm?” He mumbles without looking at me.

“I think we need to talk,” I say, sitting up straight on my chair and hoping the seriousness in my voice will get him to turn around. It does. Though apparently, his misread what I meant, because he’s got a pretty wild look of panic on his face, and I could swear his hands are shaking as he stuffs them in his pockets. I think back over my words. I guess they would make anyone have a bit of anxiety. They aren’t exactly the way good conversations usually start. Then again, this isn’t a good conversation. Well... it might end up that way. 

“Nothing bad!” I try to put him at ease. This conversation will go much easier if he isn’t worried I’m getting rid of him.

He nods his head and visibly relaxed a little, but I can tell he’s still nervous.

“It’s about the baby,” I begin. And his reaction is the whole reason I’m trying to have this conversation. There’s a flash of instant worry, and then he’s looking down at the floor like some five-year-old child who’s just been scolded. Every time I bring anything up about this baby, this is his reaction and I don’t understand it. Just getting him to talk at all about it is like pulling teeth. Vampire teeth!

And yet, everything is still so new in a sense, and fragile. We’ve spent a lot of time together since that one night at the cemetery, and I’m beginning to really have hope that with his help, I might be able to pull this whole mother thing off. I mean, if she’s half vampire, what am I going to do with that? Will she get angry at some kid down the block and go all game face? And frankly, a toddler with super speed is my new definition of a nightmare.

But I don’t know how he feels. I’ve tried talking but he won’t budge. Indirect hasn’t worked, so I guess the only thing left is to just flat out say it.

“Are you ashamed of the baby?” I ask, hopefully keeping the tremble out of my voice.

I’m not sure if I should feel good or bad about the shocked look he gives me.

“I mean, don’t get me wrong, these last four weeks have been some of the best moments of my life, and we haven’t even really done anything.” We’ve snuggled, kissed, and he’s held me as I’ve fallen asleep, but that’s as far as any physical stuff has gone. “They've been a whole other dimension of nice. And I think, maybe, we’re on the verge of something I haven’t really allowed myself to even dream of since graduation. This just feels so… different. It’s not the same way I felt about… um, back then. I can’t really describe how or why it is... but it’s just different. And I think that… it actually feels like… that’s really a good thing.”

He relaxes so much that he almost looks boneless as practically melts onto the kitchen cabinet, and then he gives me what I’m thinking is a grateful smile. Relieved, maybe? Yes, probably relieved. After a second he steps up to the island and reaches to take my hands in his and squeezes them in a very reassuring gesture.

“Know what you mean,” He smiles, staring into my eyes and then he gets that look on his face.

I don’t think I will ever get tired of that look. He has a lot of unique expressions, but this one… it just makes you feel like you’re the entire world to him and that he’s so amazed he gets to be a part of it. It erases any doubts, or thoughts, or feelings, of anything except for the fact that right here, right now, I know without a doubt that he loves me with everything he’s got. But that's not the problem here.

“And what about the baby?” I ask. And watch those eyes slide down to look at the top of my bump. He sucks in a sharp breath. I’m betting he didn’t even know he did it. I see the look change from such unfathomable love, to something else. I don’t know what it is or why it’s there. Is it fear? Shame? Regret? Anger?

“What are you feeling right now? Please tell me?” I’m practically begging him. “Every time I try to talk about this baby,” Oh great. Here I go rambling on, but I just can’t seem to stop. “It’s like you shut down and you get this look and I don’t know what it is or why! All I know is it feels like for some reason you really wish it would just sort of go away so you can forget about it, and I just… I don’t… understand!”

He’s around the island and folding me in his arms in a heartbeat. I didn’t even realize I’d started crying. I’ll be so happy when these preggo hormones go away! After a few minutes of just holding me like that, I finally manage to ask him in a tiny voice why he doesn’t want it.

It takes him a long time to answer.

“Buffy…” He’s still holding me tight. I’m not sure if he’s just wanting the closeness, or if he’s afraid to look at me. “You couldn’t be further from the truth.”

For a while, I’m not sure if he’s going to say anything more than that. Then I feel and hear him heave a heavy sigh, and I know he’s decided to say something he’s been holding onto a while.

“I’m afraid, alright?” He sounds almost a little defensive. “And yeah, I’m ashamed, but not the way you’re thinkin', luv.”

I push back from him a little so I can see his face. He can’t hide anything with that face.

“I… I just… I don’t deserve this,” He says, turning to look away. “Don’t deserve you, or this, or any of it, really. And I’m just… I’m afraid that it’s all some cosmic joke. Dangle the carrot a bit an’ all that. I’m bloody terrified that I’ll turn around an’… an’ find it’s all gone.”

“Spike,” I reach up and turn his face to look at mine. “We’re not going anywhere. I’m not going anywhere. And she’s far enough now that even if something happened, she’d be fine. You know that, right?”

I can see from the doubt in his eyes, that he definitely doesn’t.

“Can’t lose you, Buffy. Not again.” I see the fear and pleading pouring from his eyes. ” And… I’m afraid that if I… If…”

“If you let yourself love her before she’s here, it’ll hurt as much as losing me?” A sudden moment of clear understanding hit me. It does occasionally happen.

He nods in answer to my question.

“Oh, Spike,” I pull him in, this time wrapping my arms around him. It’s all I can do at the moment. I don’t really know the words to help him. I don’t know if there are words that would help. I can only imagine what’s going through his mind. More than a century of being vampire weighing on his soul, and to have something he’d probably never even thought about, much less wanted, to suddenly be real. He’s really lost everything over these last few years, so why wouldn’t he think he’d lose us as well.

“Mmmm, hmmm…” I hear Giles clear his throat. “Buffy? A word?”

Well, so much for our tender little moment. I let go of Spike and turn to face Giles, giving him my best annoyed slayer look. Angel is standing behind him, looking at pretty much anything except me and Spike.

“Whatever you have to say, just say it,” I tell Giles. I’m really not in the mood for more of this baloney.

“Were you planning to patrol this evening?” He asks me, just like he does every evening. I think he’s still waiting for me to say no one of these days.

“Don’t I always?” I answer, which makes him smile for just a second.

“Angel and I were conferring, and... given the evidence that Spike’s trigger is still active, it might be prudent for Angel to patrol with you this evening, while Spike remains here.”

“I’m not chaining him up again, Giles!” I guess I didn’t make myself clear enough earlier.

“No, no… no chaining, ” He quickly corrects. “Just remaining here at the house. I… that is, we… don’t think it would be wise for you to be alone with Spike in an environment where he could be triggered at any moment.”

“Giles…” I begin to argue.

“Buffy…” Angel cuts in. “You'd be on your way to the hospital right now if I hadn’t been here. He could have killed you or hurt your baby.”

“But he didn’t!” I’m beginning to get a whopper of a headache trying to get these people to see Spike for who he really is.

“Not this time,” Gile answers with that quiet but stern way he can use when he wants to. “And it may never happen again. But until your child is born and you are no longer in such a physically vulnerable state, you shouldn’t be left alone with him. I’m willing to concede here at the house since we are all here, but not on patrol.”

“Buffy,” Spike’s quiet voice gets my attention and I turn to him. “Watcher’s got a point.”

“No, he doesn’t!”

“Yeah... he does. It’ll be fine, luv. Just a bit longer and we won’t even have to worry about it anymore, yeah?”

“As much as I hate to say it, Buffy, you should listen to him,” Angel adds.

“Fine,” I bite out. Because if I say anything else, it’ll probably be something I end up regretting later. I know he means well. They all do. They just don’t understand. Not yet. But hopefully with time, and seeing how much Spike truly cares, they will.

“Let’s go, Angel. I really need to kill something right about now,” I say as I edge off my chair and waddle my angry little hips towards the front door. I don’t even stop to check if he’s following.

As we get to the door, Willow leans forward from the couch and asks if I’m going out. I let her know that apparently, I am, and that Angel’s my babysitter tonight. I notice her glance behind me, with a questioning look. Whatever Angel does must answer it, because she nods and then goes back to reading one of her books. She’s been doing that a lot lately. I think Giles has her researching something about the baby.

I don’t even bother to acknowledge Angel as we start working our way towards Restfield. We’re halfway there before he even says a word.

“Look, Buffy, I know you’re angry.”

“No, Angel,” I stop and spin around to face him. “I’m pissed off! There’s a difference.”

“Okay…” He got a ‘deer in the headlights’ look going on.

“I really wish you and Giles and the others would get off your high horse!” I practically spit at him. “Spike has been there for me when no one else was. He understood when no one else did. I don’t care if he has this stupid trigger, or who put it there, or why. All I care about is that my so-called friends can’t seem to get it through their heads that I love him, and that we… as in me and this baby... need him! He went out and got a soul, Angel! So he could be a better man! For me, Angel! Me, and this baby! How much more can he do to prove himself? Is there even anything he can do that will ever be enough for you all?

On Angel’s continued look of panic, I turn around and start walking at a relatively fast pace again. God, I hope there are fledges rising tonight.

“Buffy?” I hear him ask as we finally hit Restfield.

“What?” I bite out.

“Um, how… how does this work? Are they letting you actually slay?” He asks a little hesitantly.

“You better believe it,” I answer. “And if I were you, I wouldn’t stand too close to anything we run into tonight.”

“Come on, Buffy, you're not being fair here!” He’s starting to sound angry. At least I’ll have company.

“You mean, fair like the way everyone treats Spike?”

“He’s dangerous, Buffy. Why can’t you see that?” He asks.

“Because he’s not!” I shout as I spin around to face him again.

“He is!” He’s almost shouting, too. He takes a moment to calm down before he continues. “Even he thinks that, or he wouldn’t have agreed to stay there while I’m out here with you. I may not know much about Spike’s shiny new soul, but I do know Spike. He’d rather stake himself than voluntarily have you out here alone with me unless he really thought it was his only choice.”

Does he really think that? Does Spike think he’s dangerous? To us? I turn around and keep walking, though not as fast as I was for sure. I’m playing our earlier conversation over and over in my head trying to pick out anything that would tell me he thinks that. Nothing really comes up until Giles and Angel suggested it. No, I think it’s just Angel’s wishful thinking.

There isn’t a lot of demon activity tonight, and it’s really annoying and inconsiderate. I really, really, really, want to stake something. Unfortunately, there’s nothing in Restfield, or Shady Hill, or Memorial, or the other three we’ve been to so far. I’m beginning to think they’ve all taken the night off. Or maybe the shouting tipped them all off. Or maybe royally pissed off slayer sends out a special vibe.

I’m just about ready to call it quits when Angel thinks he hears someone waking up in a freshish grave. After a few minutes of listening, he finally says that yes, someone is definitely waking up. So, we camp out and wait. And wait. And wait. I’m just beginning to think that Angel made it up and the vamp is a no show when a hand suddenly pops up out of the ground.

“Finally!” I can’t help my annoyance.

“Buffy, you want me to…” Angel trails off as I shoot him a deadly look. “Nevermind.”

Once the fledge finally has himself free, I pull out my stake and square off. The guy looks at me funny and then looks over at Angel. Angel just shrugs, and the guy looks back at me.

“Uh, no offense, but it seems a little… weird… to fight a pregnant lady.”

“Well, it’s not any weirder than you crawling out of your grave,” I retort.

He seems to consider that a moment and then finally settles into a fight stance.

“Oh, thank God!” I swear out loud. Which makes the guy frown again, but after a second he charges.

This feels good. I’m so glad I didn’t let Angel take this fledgling. I needed the exercise and the stretching. Too much pent up energy in the house. Besides, this guy obviously didn’t get the full fight package download before he woke up, because he’s kind of lame. Don’t get me wrong, I’m working for this kill, but he kind of sucks, so it isn’t too bad. All the sparring with Spike recently has paid off. Once he started patrolling with me, he made me focus on slips and blocks. It’s a little hard to get in for the staking part, but it does result in far less bruises to the torso.

“You need some help?” Angel asks, sounding concerned. I’m sure he’s wondering why it’s taking me so long.

“Nope! I’ve got it covered!” I answer him back.

And I do. Right up until a wickedly sharp pain stabs me on the right side of my bump, and it sends me crashing to my knees.

Next thing I know, fledge boy is backing up, and telling Angel he didn’t do anything, and then I hear him dust and Angel is right there next to me asking what’s wrong. Unfortunately, I’m having trouble catching my breath while waiting until the pain subsides. As it does, I fall back on my butt on the grass and just breathe.

“Buffy?” Angel’s voice is more insistent now. “What’s wrong? Where are you hurt?” His hands are running all over me, checking for wounds.

“Not hurt,” I manage to finally pant out. “It’s her. Supernaturally strong baby equals supernaturally strong owies on the inside.”

He looks worried. I understand. Been there, done that. 

“It’s happened before. I’ll be fine.” I assure him. “I just need to get home and lay down.”

“Buffy… Are you sure?” He asks. “I can take you to the hospital.”

“It would take longer to get to the hospital than to the house,” I roll my eyes at him.

“Good thing I’m fast then,” He answers.

“No, I’m fine. I just want to go home, Angel.”

“Are you sure? I can have you there in minutes. Let them check you out and I can call the others.”

“Yes, I’m sure!” I’m getting a little annoyed, but the pain is gone so now I’m trying to stand up. Which, I begrudgingly accept his help with.

“Buffy, you’re so close…” He suddenly trails off and I see his eyes glaze over a bit and unfocus.

“Angel?” Suddenly his eyes are back on me, and pretty intensely so.

“What is it?” He’s beginning to worry me.

“You’re bleeding…”

“No, I’m not. I told you, he didn’t hurt me. Not even a scratch... “ I trail off as I see his nostrils flare and he takes a bigger breath than he usually does when he's around me. "Oh." 

It’s all I can manage for a moment.

He scoops me up into a bridal carry and then starts heading in the opposite direction of my house.

“No, take me home, Angel,” I tell him.

“You need a hospital, Buffy.” He keeps walking.

“Yes, but nothing’s going to happen in the next fifteen minutes, so take me home,” I tell him a little more firmly and he stops. He looks at me clearly expecting an explanation. “I need to get my bag, and send someone to go tell Dawn and Tara at the Espresso Pump, and we need to grab Spike…”

It’s impossible to miss the flinch when I said Spike’s name.

“I don’t have time for a pissing contest, Angel. Take me home, now. Spike knows what to do.”

Another flinch and now he’s not looking at me anymore and he’s just standing there.

“Angel?”

Still not looking at me. And is he getting… flustered? He’s avoiding something. And this is suddenly giving me a very bad feeling.

“Angel, what’s going on?”

More avoido fluster guy.

“Angel, why won’t you answer me? What did you do, Angel?”

Oh God… Spike. But, it’s just Giles and Willow at the house. He’s too strong for them to… except he can’t fight back if they try anything. And either one could… Oh, God…

“Angel, take me home, NOW,” I command as I start trying to wiggle myself free. He’s trying not to drop me, but also not let me go. I finally resort to cracking him in the jaw with a left hook, and barely manage to keep from winding up on the ground as he lets me go.

I don’t waste a single second more on him. Instead, I turn and run. Please let me be wrong. Please, please, let me be wrong. And if I’m not, then let me at least make it there in time to stop them. I can’t lose him. I can’t. It feels like I just found him. God, why won’t my muscles make me go faster than this? Focus, Buffy. Power. Put everything you’ve got into your legs. You’ve got to get there. Please let me be wrong.

I vaguely hear Angel calling after me. Can’t focus on that. Have to get to the house. Faster! Must go faster! Yes! There it is! Almost there. God, please let me be wrong.

I charge up the porch steps and crash through the door. I think I opened it. Who knows. Not important.

“Spike?” I scream out, as I look left into the living room and then run right into the dining room. Not here. Kitchen. Not here. Basement door… open.

I hear Angel calling my name again. He’s in the house moving toward me. Can’t worry about that. I charge down the basement stairs as fast as I can without falling, and as soon as I get to the bottom and turn toward Spike’s bed, I’m frozen in place.

Giles and Willow. Willow and Giles. Sword. Book. Smoldering stake. Smoldering? Why is it smoldering? Why are they staring at the ground? Why…

“Buffy…” I hear my name. Someone is saying it, though I’m not sure who. More than one, I think. Other words, too. Ran. Blood. Tried. Bleeding. Buffy. Wrong. But none of them matter.

Suddenly the pain is back. Worse. More. Bigger. I’m on my knees again. But none of it matters. I can’t even see anything else anymore. The world is closing in. Darkness all around the edges focusing in smaller and smaller on the one thing that does matter.

The pile of dust on the floor in front of his bed.

And then even that fades to black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some dialogue from Season 7, Episode 17 - "Lies My Parents Told Me."   
> Yes, I've played with the timeline a smidge, raising Angel from the ocean a little sooner.


	15. Chapter 14

_August 25, 2000_

Have you ever been in one of those situations where everything was both the best possible and worst possible thing all at the same time? Well, that would sum up my current situation.

See, birthdays are huge. With the First and its minions systematically wiping out humanity, any birthday that anyone gets to celebrate is a big win. Human and demon populations alike are being decimated, unless they play for the First, that is. If you want to be as safe as you can be, you relocate to one of the several large strongholds like London, New York, Tokyo, Vancouver. There are quite a few, so it is still possible. Of course, a lot of cultures don’t want to do that, and they’re paying the price. There are also smaller places like grandfather’s castle. But eventually, those will be gone as well. So, yeah, birthdays are definitely a big thing.

My own birthday was usually about as typical as you could get growing up. I enjoyed the big celebrations. But the last few years my birthday has been spent with just me and my ghosts if you will, one of whom happens to share my birthday. And then I get sent back in time to little old Sunnydale, years before the Battle of the Hellmouth. Birthdays are just birthdays here.

So I sure as heck didn’t plan on having my mother show up at my door and drag me out of my little motel room to come party at The Bronze. Specifically, a birthday party at The Bronze. My birthday party. Complete with little noisemakers and a handful of gifts that touches me more than they should. I know all these people, but they don’t know me. Not yet, anyway. So now I have a small array of new little weapons, a leg holster, and a protection amulet. And I’m torn. But I can’t tell them why.

“So, Hope, you gonna get your groove on and join us out on the dance floor?” Uncle Xander asks while aunt Anyanka drains her glass as quick as she can. She’s been hitting the dance floor pretty hard tonight.

“Nah, I’m good. Besides, as much as they charge for these drinks, I wouldn’t want someone to run off with them,” I answer him. To which he just shrugs as Anyanka drags him back out.

Before long I’m rejoined by my mother and Aunt Willow and Aunt Tara, as they take a break to recuperate.

“So, how you liking the party so far?” My mother asks, clearly trying to be very casual about checking if I’m having fun or not.

“It’s more than I could have ever asked for,” I give her a genuine smile. And that answer brings the most beautiful and proud smile to her face.

“Definitely beats the traditional slayer seppuku, right?” Aunt Willow teases.

“Definitely better! No seppuku for me, thank you very much,” I confirm with another smile.

The music ends, and everyone shuffles around for a few more seconds, getting drinks, wiping off sweat, making a dash for the bathrooms, all while making lots of small talk. It feels so nice and welcoming. I am actually so very glad that I am getting this opportunity to see these people as they are now. They are different in many ways from the ones who raised me, and it makes me wonder what happened to turn them from the way they are now, to the people I knew, because I don’t think it was all just growing up and becoming adults.

“I don’t mean to pry, but is there a Mister Hope back home who’s missing out on your celebration here?” Uncle Xander asks. I don't answer, but apparently, my face says something because he clams up and looks elsewhere.

“O-or a Missus Hope? Because, we are so not with the judging, here!” Aunt Willow quickly adds. It’s almost enough to make me laugh.

“No. No mister or missus Hope back home,” I assure them. They seem to get the message and drop it.

The music starts again and Willow grabs Tara’s hand and they head for the floor again. Anyanka hasn’t returned from the bathroom just yet, so my mother offered to dance with him until she gets back. They all ask me again, of course, but really I just want to sit here and watch them. I want to cement these images and times in my memory, and let them take the place of the hardened, calculating, though caring, people I grew up with.

But it’s getting stuffy with all the bodies and the music as more and more people pack in. There’s at least a few vampires in the crowd, but they don’t seem to be dragging anyone off to the exits. Not yet anyway. So I grab my drink and decide to head upstairs for a better look. Easier to keep an eye on the crowd that way. Besides, gives me a little more room to breathe.

I lean over on the railing, letting my arms support me as I watch them all. This is one of the reasons I’m here. It isn’t one of my mission parameters, no, but it is a reason. To try and save these people. So they can all go on dancing and partying and not have to worry about Turok-Han, or Bringers, or the dozens of demon species that want to wipe them all out. If I do my job right, they’ll never know anything different than this.

“Do you see them, Thomas?” This is the other reason I’m up here. Gives me a chance to talk. “They’re all so young. I wish I could keep them this way forever. Make their lives better… easier. I'd give anything to be able to do that.”

I laugh at that thought. Is this what it feels like to be a parent? I guess the roles have switched if that’s the case. Me being the one worried about the lost innocence of the ones I love.

“How am I supposed to do this? Gods, bunu’ I wish you’d have given me at least a small clue about what I’m supposed to do.” But he didn’t. Just the same old cryptic, “you’ll know” non-answer.

“You’d know what to do, wouldn’t you, Thomas?” I smile at the thought. “You always did.” He’d have been talking me through things until I could see the best path forward. Never taking over, just being the one that gave me the strength to complete my mission.

“Birthdays just aren’t the same without you.” I stare into my glass of bourbon as I gently swirl it around. “Probably never will be,” I add. Then I stand upright, stretching to my full height, not that it’s much. I raise my glass in a toast, calling forth his beautiful face from my memory. “Happy birthday to us, Thomas.”

The bourbon goes down pretty smooth for the cheap swill that it is. But before I’ve got half of it down, my vampire alarms go all haywire. Crap, did a whole nest just walk in or something? I quickly scan the crowd looking for signs of disruption. I haven’t been paying much attention to my demon radar, and the glasses of watered down bourbon aren’t helping. And then it hits me. The problem isn’t below me, it’s behind me. And it isn’t a nest.

“Buggerin’ bloody…” I trail off as I lean back over on the railing.

“Havin' birthday parties for imaginary friends isn’t a sign of the mentally stable,” He says as he walks up and stands next to me, looking down on the crowd.

“Not imaginary,” I answer him, as I swirl my bourbon a bit more. “But I guess you would be the expert on dealing with insanity, wouldn’t you?” I ask without looking up. “You took care of Drusilla for what... decades?”

“Try more than a hundred years,” he says. I can almost hear him puff up with pride at the statement.

“Hmm…” I nod in agreement.

“That's a long time. Why’d she kick you out?” I ask him. It never was documented in any of the journals, human or demon. Just that they separated. And since I don’t see him as the type to doing the leaving….

“That’d be between me and her,” His voice holds a hint of a warning.

With a sideways glance, I notice he’s staring down at the dance floor. Well, not exactly the dance floor. More like one specific person on the dance floor. My mother.

“Dangerous business loving a slayer,” I keep my voice casual. “Just ask Thomas.”

“You’re completely sack of hammers if you think…”

“I’ve followed you, you know?” I interrupt, again, nonchalant. “After her and I split up on patrol. I circle around and hunt the hunter,” I offer a half grin, without looking at him. “I’ve seen the way you look at her.”

“Just studying her is all. Looking for…”

I can’t help but start laughing as something suddenly occurs to me. Not a huge laugh, but enough it works its way under his skin apparently.

“Something funny, slayer?” He asks, and the anger is pretty clear in his voice.

“Doesn’t take a genius to put two and two together. Drusilla’s a seer, right?” I ask, looking over at him.

“What of it?” He narrows his eyes and waits for my answer.

“Got a Franklin in my pocket that says I can tell you right now what she saw and why she kicked you to the curb,” I offer him in challenge.

He stares at me for several long moments, and then just turns to lean on the railing next to me.

“Dru’s insane.” He finally scoffs. “What’s your excuse?”

According to the journals, he returned to Sunnydale in December 1998, seeking a love spell for Dru. Damn... he's been in love with her that long already? That's some serious denial.

“I guess that’s one big difference between you and me,” I goad him.

“What’s that?” He prods.

“At least I admit when I’m in love with someone,” I offer. “Don’t really care what they are,” I shrug a bit. “Just who they are.”

We stand there like that in companionable silence for a while. And then soldier boy waltzes in and cuddles up behind my mother on the dance floor. I don’t know whether to be amused or horrified because he’s clearly a bit of a neophyte on the dance front. At least to this music, anyway.

“Careful, slayer, green isn't your color,” My father teases.

“Come again?” I look over and ask him because I really have no clue what he talking about.

“You’re not the only one with eyes,” He gives me a suggestive look.

“Yeah, still nothing,” I answer after pondering that for a second. Which gets me a dramatic eye roll.

“Seen the way you look at the slayer when you’re out patrollin’. An’ just now when Private Boring rolled in. If looks could kill, he’d be dead a dozen times over.”

“What?” I ask. Is he saying what I think he is?

“Hey, no judgments here,” He puts his hands up. “Pretty sure the slayer only swings in one direction, though... tall, dark, and stupid.”

I can’t help it. I start laughing my arse off. I should be horrified that I’ve been staring at her enough for him to notice, but this is just too damn funny.

“You think that I…?” I can barely breathe out the question between my laughs. I’m even resorting to waving my one empty hand towards my face trying to catch my breath.

Meanwhile, he’s looking annoyed, and more so by the second.

“Ok, first…” I finally manage to get myself under some semblance of control. “I don’t swing that way.”

It dawns on me that I’m suddenly discussing my sexuality with my father... who hasn’t a clue he’s my father... but I certainly know he’s my father. That thought seems to sober me up right quick. So I go back to leaning on the railing and watching my mother as she continues to dance.

“Second… Not really planning to move on anytime soon anyway,” I say as I take another sip of my drink.

“Third…” I take a long look at my mother as she happily bounces around, her smile making everything and everyone around her seem a little bit brighter… and happier. “I do love her,” I say as look over at him. “Just not the way you’re thinking. She just... “ I pause, trying to make sure I phrase this right. “She reminds me of my mother,” I say with a smile and go back to watching the group.

“Your mother?” He asks as he seems to contemplate that idea with a look of piqued interest.

“Mmm, hmm,” I confirm.

“Dear ol’ dad robbed the cradle, then, did he?” He asks.

Unfortunately, he asks right as I’m trying to finish off the last of my drink, which results in a spit take of epic proportions, bourbon shooting out of my nose and mouth and raining down on a few unfortunate people right below us, as I cough and choke and sputter.

“In a manner of speaking,” I barely manage to get the words out as shield my mouth and nose with my hand, trying not to shower him or anyone else any more as I cough the bourbon out of my lungs.

He nods at that and then leans back on the railing again. A few more moments pass, as the music slows down a bit and several bodies file off the dance floor, giving the couples the run of the floor.

“So what’s your story, luv?” He finally asks.

Boy, now how am I supposed to answer that one? Always go with the truth, so you don’t have to remember a lie. That’s what I’ve done with my mother so far. Truth, but with dates and things changed, of course. Certain names altered. With my father, however, I get the feeling I need to tread carefully. In fact, I’m thinking I should try to reroute this conversation.

“My story isn’t important…” I begin. “But yours is,” I give him a pointed look.

“An’ how’s that?” He asks, once again looking at me like he’s trying to figure out what I’m up to.

How do I go about this? Needs to be just right. Ah, yes. I have just the idea. Staring down at my mother once again as she slow dances with soldier boy, the words take shape in my mind and I read them with all the emotion and desperation they describe and deserve.

“My only love, sprung from my only hate. Too early seen unknown, and known too late. Prodigious birth of love it is to me, that I must love a loathed enemy."

I stand and turn to head back downstairs, leaving him to his thoughts.

“You know how that story ends, right?” He calls after me just as I reach the stairs.

“So change the ending,” I call back to him, as I descend the stairs. “Before it’s too late.”


	16. Chapter 15

_August 25, 2002_

My mind slowly swims up to semi-consciousness. At least, I think I’m conscious. Everything seems so fragmented. Like a dream that’s so vivid and feels so real that you aren’t sure if this is reality or if this is part of the dream. There are voices around me, but it’s sort of hard to make them out.

 

_“...as well as can be expected given the circumstances.”_

_“Do they expect any… permanent… damage?”_

_“They can’t be certain, but with her slayer healing, I would expect a full recovery. Her recovery prior to graduation was remarkably rapid.”_

_“Not exactly the same.”_

_“No… no, it isn’t. She’s really rather lucky to be alive.”_

_“Yeah... lucky.”_

_“I still can’t believe you let her run all that way.”_

_“I didn’t let her do anything! Or have you forgotten she’s always been a little faster and stronger than me?”_

_“At eight months of gestation? You really expect me to believe that?”_

_“Let’s say I didn’t want to stop her... You saw the trail of blood she left! Do you really think I would have let her go like that if I could’ve caught her? You didn’t see her, Giles... I don’t think I’ve ever seen her like that… We shouldn’t have done it…”_

_“It’s a bit late for having second thoughts now, Angel.”_

_“I told you I didn’t think it was a good idea! I even offered to take him back to LA to find another way!”_

_“Yes... but you still went along with it, didn’t you? You’re just as guilty in this whole affair as both Willow and I.”_

_“You think I don’t know that? It doesn’t change the facts... We shouldn’t have done it.”_

_“You know as well as I do that it was necessary for the well-being and safety of Buffy and her child.”_

_“Do I?”_

_“How can you not, Angel? Need I remind you that it is entirely probable that Buffy’s injury was a direct result of Spike's attack in the basement last night. This type of complication is typically due to traumatic injury or shearing forces, such as a… a motor vehicle accident or a fall. Being thrown across the room is entirely consistent with what happened to Buffy.”_

_“Doesn’t make it right.”_

_“How on earth does it make it wrong?”_

_“I don’t know… it just… it didn’t feel right… still doesn’t.”_

_“Perhaps you’re just too close to the situation.”_

_“Or maybe you’re not close enough.”_

 

Time doesn’t seem to have meaning at the moment. The voices are gone. Were they even really here? It’s quiet again. Or is it?

 

_“Is she gonna be ok?”_

_“Oh, Dawnie, I’m sure she’s going to be fine! Her aura is strong, and besides, she’s the slayer, right? All that supernatural healing? I’m sure she’ll be up and talking to you before you know it.”_

_“And what if she isn’t? What happens then? We don’t have the Buffy-bot anymore.”_

_“Oh, honey, don’t worry! I promise, we’ll figure something out if we have to, but I really think your sister’s going to be fine!”_

_“Thanks…”_

_“It’s ok, I understand how scared you must be right now.”_

_“Tara?”_

_“Yes, sweetie?”_

_“What happens to the baby? If she doesn’t wake up? Will they take her away?”_

_“No! No, Dawn, I promise! Buffy planned ahead and made sure that everything was ready in case anything ever happened to her. For both you and the baby.”_

_“She did?”_

_‘Yes. She and I spoke a lot about everything and I have copies of all of the papers, just in case. So please, don’t worry. No one is going to take anyone away.”_

_“Okay.”_

_“Tara?”_

_“Yes?”_

_“What’re we gonna name her if Buffy doesn’t… you know…”_

_“She told me about that, too. I know what she wanted.”_

_“What about what Spike wanted?”_

_“I don’t know, Dawnie. I don’t think he ever said.”_

_“So then what is it? Her name?”_

_“Let’s wait a little longer and see how soon Buffy wakes up, ok? She’s her mother, so I think she should be the one to tell everyone. Don’t you?”_

_“I guess. I just can’t believe he attacked her again! How could he do that?”_

_“Dawn, I don’t know… I’m not even sure what happened… and I’m not really getting a good feeling about any of it… but, whatever it was… whatever happened… it doesn’t change how he felt about you… he loved all of you, Dawn… Buffy, you, and the baby… very much.”_

_“How do you know?”_

_“He told me.”_

_“He did?”_

_“He did. Buffy wasn’t the only one who planned ahead. He gave me letters to give all of you if something happened to him.”_

_“Can I see them?”_

_“When you’re ready. But right now I think you just need to be here so that Buffy knows you’re here for her.”_

 

I feel stronger now. Like something is calling to me. I need to do something or be somewhere.

 

_“You should see her, Buffy! She’s so cute! She’s like a little bitty Snow White! You know, if Snow White were real, that is.”_

_“If I can't babble, Willow, neither can you.”_

_“I know… I just can’t help it… I mean… I feel so…”_

_“We talked about this, Willow. We weren’t going to talk about it in front of Buffy.”_

_“Mmm, hmmm… otherwise, she might wake up and strangle you.”_

_“Not helping, Anya.”_

_“I think I’m being more than helpful. I’d be looking for the next bus out of town if I were them.”_

_“No, Willow, don’t cry! Please don’t… Anya!”_

_“I’m just saying…”_

_“God, what’re we gonna do, Xander? What do we say to her when she wakes up? Do you think she’ll ever forgive us?”_

_“What’s with this 'us' business? Neither I nor Xander had any part of this. It’s you, Angel, and Giles that are screwed.”_

_“Anya!”_

_“Fine! Whatever! I’m going to go see the baby. By the way, someone should donate a few drops of blood to put in her milk. She won’t die without it, but she’ll be stronger and healthier if you give her a small daily dose.”_

_“And you know this how?”_

_“I’ve known a couple of dhampirs. Heck, not only did I have a fling with Dracula, I dated his second son back in the middle ages.”_

_“And you didn’t think it might be important to share this information before now?”_

_“None of you asked me.”_

_“But you knew we’ve been looking for information! I’ve been going through every book in the magic shop for months!”_

_“Well, it’s not like I have a manual on how to raise a baby dhampir or anything. I just know a few things.”_

_“So, is she going to be, like, walking and talking in a few days? Because we kind of need to baby proof the house if that’s the case. Will she need, like, a vampire teething toy or something before she goes home?”_

_“How should I know?”_

_“You just said you knew some things.”_

_“About the two I dated, yes. They weren’t babies when I dated them.”_

_“So, Ahn, what do you know?”_

_“Well, I know they tend to be very beautiful and good looking… seductive… charismatic... “_

_“Focus, Anya.”_

_“Oh, they have the ability to track just about anything. They can sense even a tiny bit of demon in someone. They have perfect memories. Give them a copy of the Kama Sutra and…”_

_“I think that’s not something we need to worry about right now, sweetheart…”_

_“Well, no, not right now… But she will need quality reading material. I’ve heard they develop quicker.”_

_“We just asked you if she’ll develop faster!”_

_“No, you asked if she’ll start walking and talking in a few days. That’s different. I don’t know how fast they develop, just that it’s faster than normal humans.”_

_“Anything else we should know, Anya?”_

_“No. Not that I can think of right now.”_

_“Jumpin’ Jehosephat, what have we gotten ourselves into?”_

 

Much better now. Stronger. I need to find her. Is she ok? I need to see her.

 

_“You were right, Buffy. He deserved better. We… I… never gave him a chance. I couldn’t see anything except what I wanted to. It was wrong. I know it’s too late now, and pretty meaningless, but… I am sorry. I know I can’t make up for it, but I’ll do whatever it takes to try, Buffy. I owe him that. I owe you that. God… I’m sorry, Buffy… I’m so sorry…”_

“Lie…”

“Buffy?”

I open my eyes and see Angel standing next to me, holding my hand. I pull it from his grasp as I stare up at him. I can’t find any words right now to tell him what I’m feeling. How betrayed I feel right now. So I say the only thing I can.

“Get out.”

His face suddenly looks like I’ve sucker punched him. Good. It’s only a fraction of what I feel right now.

“Ok,” He nods. “You’re right. I-I don’t deserve to be here. I’ll go.”

He turns and walks to the door of the room, and then pauses.

“It wasn’t a lie, Buffy. I’m sorry. I just wish I’d…” He gives a heavy sigh and almost seems to shudder. He turns his head just enough that I can see there are tears running down his face. “Doesn’t matter now… I’m sorry, Buffy. And I meant it. Anything you or her need…”

And then he turns and walks out. I hear him call for a nurse, and then a moment later tells her I’m awake. I hear Giles asking how I’m doing and Angel tells him I’m awake, but stops him from coming in. They are arguing now about giving me time and leaving me alone and how I need to move on. There’s what sounds like a punch and then a dull thud hitting the floor. There’s a commotion and Willow’s asking Giles if he’s ok. He tells her he’s fine. And then there's what sounds like a woman, the nurse I'm guessing, telling everyone to leave before she calls security. There's a few muffled sorry’s, and then silence.

And then a nurse comes through the curtain in front of the door.

“Ms. Summers, it’s nice to see you awake again!” She says.

“Was I awake before?” I ask her.

“Yes, a few times now. Don’t worry, some of the medications we’re giving you can make you feel a little out of it or kind of loopy. I’m Kim, by the way. It’s written on your board, in case you forget.” She points to a big dry erase board on the wall across from me. “How's your pain right now? On a scale of zero to ten, with ten being the worst pain imaginable, where you rate it?”

“Uh… not… not much. A three, I guess.”

“Really? Tough girl! Don’t feel like you have to be brave or try to tough out the pain though, ok? I want you to be honest. It’s easier for us to control your pain better if you don’t wait until it gets really bad. Now, I just need to take a look at your incision, if that’s ok?”

I nod mutely and she moves the sheet aside and gently feels around on my abdomen. 

“Good! That’s looking great! I wish I had your constitution. I don’t think I’ve ever seen one heal up this well, this quick, before. You’d think they did your surgery more than a week ago instead of two days ago. I’m going to do a quick head to toe exam if that’s ok?”

“Um, yeah. That’s fine. What… what day is it?” I ask, uncertain. “How long have I been here?”

“I have that on the board, too. It’s easy to lose track of time, especially when you’re in and out of it, and you've been mostly out. You’re in the ICU here at Memorial Hospital. It’s Tuesday, August 27th, 2002 and you’ve been here since Saturday night. Well, early Sunday morning, really. Do you remember what happened?"

How could I forget?

“I… I, uh… passed out at home… I was bleeding I think...” I’m not sure how much or what was told to these people, so sticking to the bare minimum seems like a good idea.

“Yes, your family called 911. You had what’s called a placental abruption. It’s where the placenta separates before you give birth. The doctors did an emergency c-section and were able to save both you and your daughter. We've had to give you quite a bit of blood and fluids, but you’ve done very well.” She says all of this as she systematically poking and prodding, listening and squeezing me here and there. “They’ve been keeping a pretty constant vigil out there. I need to check your pad really quick, ok?” She asks.

“Oh, um, ok,” I answer, not sure exactly what to do.

“If you’ll just bend your knees for me for just a moment…”

I do as she asks and then a few seconds later she’s putting the sheet back over me, and telling me everything looks good.

I think I remember some of what she’s talking about. It’s hard to say. I thought maybe I was dreaming some of it.

“How are you feeling otherwise? Any pain anywhere else? Dizziness, headaches, blurred vision, difficulty breathing?”

“No. I'm good, I guess. I’m just a little…”

“Yes?”

“Like you said… loopy.”

“It’ll get better. Your vitals are all back to normal, so I expect Dr. Jones will probably stop some of your meds. Are you thirsty? Do you think you could drink something for me?”

“Yeah… yes! I mean, yes, I am really thirsty.” I didn’t realize how much until she asked.

“Great!” She pours a cup of water from a small pitcher on the tray by the bed and then hands it to me with a bendy straw stuck in it. “Slow sips, ok?”

I nod, as I drink that little bit of water and for some reason, it tastes like heaven at that moment.

“Would you like to see your daughter? I hear the nursery has been quite smitten with her!” She smiles at me. “I can have one of them bring her in for just a little bit, but you need to rest so not for very long.”

“Yeah… I mean… yes. Please.”

She smiles and says she’ll be right back.

Two days. I’ve been in the hospital for two days. Did I dream all of this? Did I hear Giles and Angel arguing earlier? Tara keeping Dawn calm and reassured? Willow, Xander, and Anya?

“Ok,” My nurse comes through the curtain again. “The nursery will be here with your daughter in a moment. Is there anything I can get you? Anything I can do? I have the time.” She offers.

“Did I… I mean, It’s kind of all… fuzzy, but… was my… family… fighting earlier?”

“Heard that, did you?” Her face gets a little darker, before she gives me a tight smile. “Sometimes the stress gets to people, some more than others.”

“Who hit who?” I ask both curious and annoyed. It occurs to me a second later she may not know who is who.

“Sorry, I'm terrible with names... The older gentleman said something that set off the tall guy, and he hit him, yes. But I made them both leave. I’m sure everything will be fine now that you’re doing better. At this rate, you’ll get to go home pretty quickly!”

Just then, another nurse emerges through the curtained doorway, pushing a cart with a bundled blanket inside a clear little bassinet.

“Good evening, Ms. Summers! I'm Becky, your daughter's nurse tonight. She's been waiting to see you! I just need to check your bands real quick…” She says a bunch of things about security and name bands, and then picks up the bundle and sets it in my arms.

“Thanks, Becky,” I hear my nurse say. “Don’t go too far, she’s still a little weak.”

I look inside the bundle that seems to weight nothing at all, and inside the blanket is this tiny little being.

“Like a little Snow White,” I mumble to no one in particular. And she is. She’s got a lot of beautiful dark hair, like Dawn’s but with little loose ringlets at the tips. It’ll be curly when she gets older, or at least wavy. Her skin is so pale it almost makes me worry, but her cheeks and nose and lips are pink, so I guess it’s ok. Then she opens her eyes and looks up at me. They’re a dusky blue. Not quite Spike’s deep clear blue, but close. She’s making all these strange little faces, pursing her lips, sticking out her tongue, moving her arms around, and all these little squeaks and odd sounds. It’s hard to say what looks like either of us. Maybe my nose. Her little face seems longer rather than rounder. Suddenly she blinks at me as little drops of water fall on her face and then I realize they came from me. I don’t know how long I been staring at her, tears washing down my face and onto hers before I sweep them away, but it seems both forever and not long enough.

“Have you picked out a name for her?” My nurse is standing next to me, supporting one of my arms. I didn’t realize my arms were getting tired until that moment.

I nod. Spike never did tell me what he wanted to name her. But I did look up that actress from the play he mentioned the one time. I can even sort of see it. The middle name was going to be different, but now… He deserves to be remembered, to have his name go on with her. I never did find out his last name, so I can't give her that. But no matter.

“He doesn’t know it, but he did pick out your name. An old and beautiful name, befitting the daughter of an old and beautiful person," I say. He'd be protesting right about now that I called him old. And Beautiful. And I can't help but smile at the thought, though I can barely see her little face anymore through the tears filling my eyes, again.

“I love you, Ophelia Willamena Summers.”


	17. Chapter 16

_September 26, 2000_

"So, you guys really didn't know that Dracula was real?" I ask, completely and utterly incredulous.

"Well, how were we supposed to know otherwise?" Uncle Xander asks.

"Right!" Aunt Willow jumps in, again. "I mean, the book is full of all sorts of stuff that is all wrong, like the changing into bats!"

"Exactly!" My mother adds. "Vampires don't do that!"

"Well, no, not unless they belong to certain breeds, they don't." I concede. Which gets me some very strange looks.

"And, like I told him," My mother evidently decides to not go into that topic. "I've had more than one obvious fledge tell me they were LeStat. So, I just assumed..."

"Well, yeah, LeStat's been dust for decades, so that's a fair enough assumption to make; but, Dracula?"

And more weird stares.

"What have you been teaching them the last four years, Giles?" The question is out of my mouth before I have a chance to check it because this is getting to be completely bizarre. The Giles who raised me had an endless supply of assigned reading and study. Was that all just for me?

"Now see here, Hope!" He replies rather indignantly.

"Sorry!" I hold my hands up in surrender. "You're right. That was unfair and uncalled for, and rude. I'm sorry." Better to pick my battles with this one.

"Buffy's more of a hands-on type of learner which, I should point out, has proven quite effective in her favor." He explains.

"You're right, of course," I say, pinching the bridge of my nose. "It's just, she's so intelligent that it seems a wasted opportunity that she hasn't been fully educated in this realm."

"So, you're telling us that the whole Anne Rice thing is true?" Uncle Xander sits forward as he asks his question with no small amount of curiosity.

"No! I didn't say that!" I say quite emphatically. "I said LeStat was real. The rest of that whole series was mostly just a fictional mash-up of dozens of different legends, courts, and families, spread out of hundreds of years, but all weirdly merged for monetary gain. For every sentence that's remotely correct, there's three that aren't even close. Besides, the whole part about vampires not being able to have sex? I mean, really?"

I hear Aunt Anya snort out a little chuckle.

"Moving on..." Giles puts an end to that line of thought. "Hope, since you seem to be more acquainted with the mythology surrounding Dracula, what can you tell us about him?"

I could tell them a lot of things. What I'm going to tell them, however, is a whole lot of nothing!

"Well, not much really. But at least I knew he was real!" I stammer out. Hopefully, I sold that well enough.

After a bit more discussion, wherein I learn that Aunt Anyanka had apparently had a brief fling with grandfather (and why does that not shock me?), and a little back and forth on going after him now or later, it is decided that no one is to go after him until we (meaning they) have more information. In the meantime, everyone is to go home and rest.

As we all file out and start heading home, I say my goodbyes and watch Uncle Xander and Aunt Anyanka go off toward his home. And following right above them is a wolf trotting along the top of a building. Well, well, well... another person who noticed that no one in this town looks up. I wondered how and when Uncle Xander ended up being a bug-eater. I'm guessing tonight's the night.

It's probably best to give them all a wide berth. No sense pinging grandfather's radar if I don't have to. I throw up an extra layer of shielding as I cut through the cemetery on the way to my room. Grandfather can see through this extra layer if he wants to, but he has to know it's there, first.

As I get near my father's crypt I see Soldier Boy, of all people, coming out of it. This gives me an uneasy feeling of dread. I know that Soldier Boy never did like my father. So why would he be going there now? It doesn’t make any sense. Do I take a chance and make sure my father is ok since he can’t defend himself against Soldier Boy if he gets a twist in his knickers? If my father is ok, how do I explain to him why I'm walking into his crypt? If he isn't ok, what am I going to do about it?

There is an easier way that is more covert, sort of. My veil doesn't just keep others from sensing what I am, it also dulls my own senses just a bit. Depending on where he's at inside the crypt, I should be able to sense him. If I can't sense him, I can drop my veil just long enough to zero in on his location. If he's dust, even that won't work. But given the fact that he's still undead tomorrow night when grandfather visits him to pay his debt with the gifting, I'm going to assume he's not dust. Still...

Making sure to extend my senses as much as possible without dropping the veil, I feel out the interior of the crypt. Sure enough, his presence is definitely there. No need to go the extra mile, thank goodness. With a sigh, I head off towards my little room, happy in the knowledge that tomorrow night I get to watch the show of my lifetime, and it is going to be good!

 

_September 27, 2000_

Having spent the better part of the day meditating, I’ve managed to bolster my spell for both my veil and the shielding over it. The veil is really second nature to me. Aunt Tara taught me how to use my first veil when I was very small. Over the years I managed to strengthen it a little. Then grandfather taught me a whole new meaning to veils. The shielding spell is also his, and it’s really kind of ingenious. It sort of make peoples ignore what they see, making it so they can't see me. Their brain would essentially just fill in the blanks that are the space I occupy. Hiding in plain sight, if you will. Veil and shield firmly in place, I set off for grandfather’s castle.

I know I shouldn’t be here. It is taking a big risk. But between what I’ve read and what grandfather told me, I need to see this for myself, because there is definitely a lot of things missing here. Besides, my veil and shielding should prevent anything from going all pear-shaped.

So, I park myself on the steps and wait.

It doesn’t take long for Uncle Xander and my mother to show up. I manage to fall in right behind my mother and follow her right through the front door. Uncle Xander takes her into what I’m guessing is the great room of this castle, and there before my eyes is grandfather. He is just exactly as he was when I knew him. Which isn’t surprising, vampires don’t exactly age like the rest of us. They do age, but at an infinitely slower rather than humans. Few live long enough to notice the changes that come with age, but some do. What most people think are aged vampires are usually ones belonging to a different breed than your typical vamp. 

I scope out a spot to watch the show. According to the journals, my mother battles and stakes him. Unless I miss my guess, that sort of fight is going to cover most of the ground in the room, and possibly more. There’s an overlook off to my right, and that seems to be as good a spot as any to camp out and watch the festivities.

“Right... that ... was not ... you. I did that. I did that because ... I wanted to! Maybe I should rethink that thrall thing.” My mother is being defiant despite being under his thrall.

I’m actually a little shocked, but not much. I was hoping that since she obviously won the fight with him that she had escaped his thrall. But, he’s had eons to perfect his technique, so it takes an extraordinarily strong mind or being a dhampir, to be able to resist. I’m not certain why we dhampir are immune to thrall, but I’m not one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

“Stay away from me,” My mother commands him, but it doesn’t hold quite the backbone it should.

“Are you afraid I will bite you? Slayer, that's why you came.”

“No. Last night ... it's not gonna happen again,” She answers with a little more fire.

“Stop me. Stake me.” He’s toying with her now, and I can’t help but roll my eyes.

“I... Any minute now.” She’s starting to panic a little. You can do this mom!

“Do you know why you cannot resist?”

“Cause you're famous?”

I almost laugh at that. That comment will go straight to his head!

“Because you do not want to.”

“My friends…”

“They're here. They will not find us. We are alone... always alone... There is so much I have to teach you. Your history, your power ... what your body is capable of…”

Talk about laying it on thick!

“I don't need to know,” She hedges.

“You long to. And you will have eternity to discover yourself. But first ... a little taste.”

Oh, you sly dog, you! That’s how you saw her future! You complete the blood exchange!

“I won't let you!” She answers him defiantly. She doesn’t understand what he means.

“I didn't mean for me,” He smiles. Such a drama king!

“What are you…?”

“All those years fighting us. Your power so near to our own... ...and you've never once wanted to know what it is that we fight for? Never even a taste?”

That’s grandfather for you, king of the hard sell, without you even being wise to it.

“If I drink that…” She looks confusedly as his wrist.

Oh, come on mom! You know better than that!

“I have not drunk enough for you to change. You must be near death to become one of us. And that comes only when you plead for it.”

Exactly!

“I'm not hungry.”

“No. Your craving goes deeper than that.”

I wonder if she’ll get a vision from the exchange as well? Blood magic is some of the most powerful magic in existence. It’s why it can animate the dead. But it can also do so much more than that.

“You think you know ... what you are ... what's to come. You haven't even begun... Find it... the darkness... find your true nature.”

I watch as she closes her mouth around his wrist and sucks, unwittingly closing the circle and setting the magic free. Her eyelids flutter wildly in a mirror of grandfather’s. Visions all around then.

“Wow... that was gross!”

Yes! Go, mom! If I could jump up and start cheering for you right now, I would absolutely do it!

“You are resisting…” He’s getting flustered!

“Looks like.”

God, I love you!

“Come here. Come to me.” He attempts to command her. But she’s broken the thrall. It’s all over but the dance!

“You know, I really think the thrall has gone out of our relationship.” She answers. “But I want to thank you for opening up my eyes a little.”

“What is this?” More confusion and flustering.

I totally knew it! I knew she kicked your arse!

“My true nature. You want a taste?”

My mother is on him in a flash. The eternal dance of slayer and vampire in battle. I wasn’t wrong, the fight covers almost every surface of the space. He seems to have an upper hand one moment, and then she the next. I’d be a little worried if I didn’t know that she wins.

She’s got him on the run now. He’s shifting, trying to make a break for it so he can get the upper hand again, or run if he can’t. He didn’t survive this long by being stupid.

But she’s not ignorant either. She knows the best ground to gain and is on the landing before he can materialize. No sooner has he transformed, she quickly stakes him.

He dramatically gasps and hisses at her. I virtually see the back of my skull with the eye roll that induces. Such dramatics. But again, he’s not stupid. Theatrics go a long way in selling your own death. He slowly pitches forward on the stairs and then transforms again in a dubious show of exaggerated dusting, that has me almost in stitches trying not to laugh.

And there’s Soldier Boy charging in to save the day. Too bad for him my mother already saved herself. And… Is Giles shirt ripped? Bloody fucking hell! He was in the pit! Oh, this is too good. I thought watching my mother kick grandfather’s arse would be the highlight of my night, but seeing Giles all flustered and blushing, knowing exactly what those three ladies can do to a man, I don’t think I will ever be able to look at him the same way for at least a month! Oh, I’m going to milk this one for all it’s worth!

The whole gang regroups and heads for the door as I silently laugh to myself. Do they really think the whole thing is done? Does she think she dusted him? Giles really should have taught her better. Do they really think that all those people who claimed to have dusted him and survived, were just making it up? All the legends and mythology and no one ever managed to kill him. Because you have to do it just right, and it has to be done a very precise way and all at the exact same time. You can’t just stake him, or behead him, or burn him with either fire or holy water. And he’s very good at convincing people he’s been dusted. Just like he did my mother.

Wait… what’s this? She’s silently creeping back in, and waiting next to the pile of “dust.” Well, score a point for the cute little smart girl! As grandfather pulls himself together, she’s on him in a flash and stakes him again. It is almost more than I can take. There are tears running down my face now from trying so very hard not to laugh. I’m going to have to make a dash out of here soon or I’ll end up dissolving into a fit of laughter and give myself away.

Oh my god, bunu’ really? He’s not even waiting for more than a couple of seconds before rematerializing. You’re killing me here! He’s finally got the message and stays down for the count. My mother gives herself a satisfied smile and then marches off, every inch of her the conquering general marching home to celebrate. She’s my ticket out of here without being seen, so I better get a move on. She’s already into the atrium by the time I’ve made it down the stairs, and she’s out the door a second later. Time to turn on a little speed.

“Reveal yourself, child.” The command, and make no mistake it is a command, resonates throughout the castle. Bloody hell.

I freeze. He had to have sensed the movement. I can hide my self but I still affect things around me. Air, light, all slightly altered as I interact with it. If I am perfectly still, he won’t find me. I can do this. I’ve practiced it many a time.

“Do you honestly think that I would not know the feel of my own magic?” His amused voice is both a death knell to my little game here and the mental equivalent of a warm hug. “Allow me, child, to honor my duties as host, even if my honored guest is… unexpected.”

Well, hell. He’s invoked the host and guest relationship. There’s no getting out of this now. I can leave, absolutely. But there’s a lot of magic and responsibility in the guest and host relationship. It is very old and very powerful magic that is part of the universe itself it seems. It is, in fact, the very basis of why a vampire can’t enter a home uninvited.

But in all honesty, I don’t want to leave. I’ve missed him. He was my stability and guiding force. He’s the whole reason I can even come back in time to try and save the world. You know what, bugger all. I’ll take the chance and face the music.

“Dezvăluie-mă,” My voice holds equal command as I turn around, and watch as the shield and veil both shimmer lightly and then are gone, revealing everything.

As soon as the veil is gone, I see and hear his sharp intake of breath, and I give a tiny little giggle of amusement. Yeah, you weren’t expecting to run into a dhampir in Sunnydale were you? I stand there, still, as he approaches me. It is my duty to allow my host to welcome me.

He circles me briefly, evaluating… calculating… observing.

“The vision of your countenance and form revealed to me did not do justice to your beauty, little one.”

“I am honored by your observation,” I answer with practiced formality. He’s a bit obsessive about formalities when he knows to expect them. It’s why I’m able to frustrate him so easily. That thought makes me laugh again for just a second.

“You find my complement amusing?” He asks, sounding somewhat amused himself.

“It is as comforting as it is familiar, bunu’ meu.” I decide to just dig right in.

“You dare use such a term of endearment, despite the knowledge that you are not of my progeny?” Good. He’s still sounding amused instead of angry.

“Only because in my heart it is true,” I answer him.

He stops in front of me and gives me a more calculating look, that I’m not quite sure what to make of.

“Show me,” He commands.

I know what he wants me to do. He’s taught me how to do it. The question is whether I should. After another moment of deliberation, I decide to do it. I’ve already messed everything up this much. In for a penny, in for a pound!

I nod and then reach out my hand, with my first two fingers extended and place them on his left temple, and give my simple command. “Arată-i.”

I see his eyes unfocus for several moments, as images, thoughts, and feelings from various memories flood from me to him. A few seconds later, and I remove my fingers, the slide show of my life complete.

“Then it is true? The vision I have seen of what is to come?” He asks, looking troubled.

“It is,” I answer with more sadness that I really meant to.

“My dear child,” He steps forward and cups my face lovingly, as he has done a dozen times in the past. “One so young should never be made to bear such a burden as the one you carry.”

“I bear it with honor, bunu’ meu,” I answer him. And I do. I just wish… An idea pops into my mind. Maybe? I bring my hand up to cover his on my cheek. “Can you tell me what it is that I am to do here, so that I may alter the course of history and avoid the coming destruction?”

He weighs my question for several seconds, withdrawing his hand from mine. He looks angry with me for a moment, but then his look softens.

“You are gifted with not only beauty but with a cunning wit as well. Were I younger and lacking the wisdom borne of time, I would have surrendered to the inquest as to your purpose.”

Damn.

“Speranța, I would give you the answers you seek if there were within my power to give. But it is not meant to be. You must find them yourself. And when it is time…”

“I’ll know what to do.” I finish for him, with a heavy sigh.

“As you say,” He smiles and nods his acknowledgment. “Now, there is much business I must attend to before I can return to my home. Therefore, I beg you to take your leave, for I would prefer to be gone this night if I can accomplish my tasks.”

“Yes, of course,” I turn to go.

“If it is any comfort to you, Speranța,” He calls after me. “I do not think it is possible for you to fail in your calling. You will fulfill your destiny with honor, as you were meant to do.”

I’m not sure if that is a comfort to me or not. But I choose to take it as such. As I am about to leave, I feel the need to say just one more thing.

“Bunu’?” He raises an eyebrow in amused question. “I missed you. And thank you.”

He simply nods again, and I turn and leave.

As I head back to my motel, I can’t help but feel a renewed sense of purpose. Tonight, he will visit my father and repay the debt he owes him. The gift of life, in exchange for his own life. Tonight is the night that my mother and father’s lives change forever, though neither is wise to this fact for a very long time. But I know.

With that thought, I am bolstered even more. I can do this. I don’t know what “this” is, but I can and will do it. For all of them. Because this world is worth saving. They are worth saving. And perhaps, I can even save their souls from the darkness that consumed them while I’m at it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some dialogue from Season 5, episode 1, "Buffy vs. Dracula".


	18. Chapter 17

_August 31, 2002_

“Thanks, guys!” I tell Xander and Anya as they help usher me, Willa, and Dawn, through the door.

Tara comes down the stairs, arms loaded with various items that I recognize as belonging to Willow. I feel the heat rising in my face. Xander quickly excuses himself to go work on moving more furniture around upstairs, while Anya continues holding and bouncing Willa, and Dawn offers to go supervise Xander, whatever that means.

“Just a few things Willow left,” Tara holds up the stuff. “I was going to put them in a box and leave it on the porch for her to pick up.” Her voice is sad.

I feel terrible knowing the fight they had when they showed up together at the hospital and I demanded Willow get out of my room and my house. I don’t feel bad about telling her to get out. But I do feel bad for Tara. Willow had apparently told her and Dawn a lie and said that Spike attacked me again in the basement and that they dusted him on instinct. But when I told her to get out of my house, and Tara wanted to know why she fessed up. They’d had it out right then and there about Willow lying and using magic to take a life and Tara had told her it was over. Again. So I told her she could stay. In fact, after Willow ran out of the room I sort of shamelessly begged Tara to stay. I know I can’t do this alone, and she’s about the only one of the group that I’m sure I can really trust right now.

I decide to set up camp in the living room for now. It’s a nice sunny spot and I can see anyone coming and going if the doorbell rings. Not that I expect a lot of people to be beating down my door. Although, if the girls in the dreams I’ve had the last two nights are any indication, something is definitely brewing. Yes, this couch will be a much better place to camp during the day than in one of the upstairs rooms.

They feel like slayer dreams, but I’ve half tried to dismiss them as nothing more than the dreams of a new mother anxious about protecting her daughter while grieving Spike’s death, and everything that we could have been if we hadn’t wasted so much time. Was he afraid? Did he fight? No. Knowing Spike he probably stood up and faced them like the man he was. He was shackled, what else was he going to do? Guess he was right about having it all ripped away from him.

“Uh oh, looks like somebody is hungry!” Anya sing songs at my daughter that she’s currently gently bouncing and making funny faces at. Who’d have thought Anya would be such a fan of babies? Well, unless Willa’s crying. Or needs changing. Ok, so she’s a fan of happy babies. I guess that’s fair. “Let’s give you to your mother so auntie Anya can go make you a bottle!”

She sways her way over to me and hands Willa off to me. She’s just starting to make a tiny bit of fuss and putting her little fists up to her face, which I’ve learned is a good sign that she’s getting hungry. I had planned to try and breastfeed her, but my milk still hasn’t come in. The nurses at the hospital said that can happen if someone loses a lot of blood in childbirth. Besides, I’m not sure how I’m supposed to add a few drops of blood to her milk if she’s getting it straight from the tap. Not to mention, according to Anya she’s probably going to develop fangs at some point.

Holy cow, I am so out of my league here. What am I going to do when she does get fangs? Will she have baby fangs that fall out and adult fangs come in? Does the tooth fairly leave money for baby fangs? What if she gets angry in playschool and decides to bite some little girl who takes her toy? What if she doesn’t know how to control her demon side? What if she punches a little boy in second grade for pulling her pigtails and sends him flying across the room?

“Oh, sweety!” Tara is suddenly sitting next to me on the couch and pulling me into a hug. “I’m so sorry you’re going through so much right now,” She says as she just slightly rocks both me and Willa back and forth in a soothing motion.

“Oh, Tara, what am I going to do?” I’m crying full force again. “I was counting on Spike to help her with the whole half vampire thing, and now he’s gone!”

“Oh, Buffy, I’m so sorry,” She says, still rocking gently. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out. I mean, all the other mothers like you probably worried about the same thing, right?”

I nod my head. I guess she has a point.

“And you do have someone who’d probably be willing to help if you get really desperate.”

She’s not wrong. Angel was at least smart enough not to come back to the hospital. Which is more than I can say for Willow and Giles. He did leave a letter with the nurse to give me, explaining how he’d take care of patrol until I felt like it, and how he can’t and won’t ask for forgiveness, but if I ever needed anything, including to tell him to go away, or even to go to hell, that I could call or text him. But at the moment, guilty conscience or not, I just can’t even consider talking to him.

At least he’s showing some signs that he’s got a soul. At least he acknowledged what they did was wrong and that he regrets it. Willow seems stuck on the whole idea that she was just going along with it because Giles had some valid points and that if she’d know how much I was in love with him she wouldn’t have helped him at all. I don’t know how she didn’t know. Did they not have eyes or ears? And Giles, well, he’s still completely in denial. No, that isn’t even right. He doesn’t deny anything at all, he seems almost proud of it! Twice he was up at the hospital trying to justify it and telling me that I just needed to see the big picture and what was in Willa’s best interests long term. I finally just had to call the nurse and ask her to make him leave and not let him back in. I’ve seen demons with less scary looks and voices than that nurse had at that moment!

“Feeling better? Can I get you some water or I could make you some tea to help relax you a little?” Tara asks as she loosens her hold and lets me sit up.

“Ok, here you go! One nice warm bottle of strawberry milk for little miss... “ Anya comes around the corner just as Willa starts giving a very vocal cry demanding to be fed, and Anya suddenly stops in the middle of the doorway and frowns at me. “Why are you crying? Is something wrong?” She looks at Tara, “Why is Buffy crying?”

“She’s just got a lot of feelings she's dealing with.” Leave it to Tara to put everything in the nicest way possible.

“Oh! You mean with being a single mother and Spike being dust!” She suddenly starts walking again and hands me the bottle. “I’m shocked she’s not a complete and total basket case, much less that she hasn’t killed them all in very painful and horrible ways!”

“Um, right… Can we talk about something else? Tara asks her.

Anya just sort of shrugs. “I added a couple of drops from the little vial in the refrigerator. It’s amazing how little it takes to make the whole bottle of milk turn pink!”

I take the offered bottle and automatically check the temperature on my wrist before giving it to Willa who seems to relish her milk. I’ve already picked up on the fact that she must have a really great sense of smell because as soon as anyone enters the room with a bottle she lets loose with the lung power. I wonder what other ways she’s different from other infants? I guess only time will tell. At least I have Anya that I can ask. I’m sure as hell not calling Giles. Not about Willa, anyway. I may tell him about the dreams, though. If there are girls in danger, I can’t not tell him.

“Speak of the devil…” I murmur, looking through the lace curtains as a movement catches my eye on the front porch. I watch as he reaches for the doorbell but then stops. He takes a step back and turns. Oh good, he’s going to leave. Wait… no. He’s turning back around and…

The doorbell rings. I sigh. I really don’t feel like dealing with this.

“It’s Giles,” I say to Tara and Anya as I look up from Willa. “Can you… can you just get rid of him?

“Sure Buffy,” Tara softly smiles and then gets up to go answer the door.

“Wait!” It comes out as almost a shout right as she reaches for the doorknob. “I… I need to tell him something. Just, if he won’t go when I’m done, can you…?”

“I could curse him for you! Or get Hallie! She’s all over the whole child justice thing!” Anya says a little too brightly.

“No, that’s ok, but I’ll keep that in mind,” I answer. I may be angry as hell at him and never want to see him again, but I don’t want him dead. Not that it wouldn’t be justified. Some states are all about that eye for an eye sort of thing.

“Suit yourself,” She shrugs, as Tara opens the door and I hear Giles begging Tara to let him in.

“I want you to promise that when she tells you to go, you’ll go, without arguing,” She tells him. He agrees and she steps back and opens the door wide for him.

“Buffy!” He seems both joyous and desperate. I cut him off with my hand, like some ill-tempered traffic cop or crossing guard, and he stops dead in his tracks.

“I told Tara to let you in for one reason,” I tell him. “I need to tell you something and it might be important.”

He stares at me, stuffing his hands in his pockets, and looking less than pleased. “Alright, I’m listening.”

Well, maybe an old dog can learn new tricks. Did he finally regrow a conscience?

“We all know that something bad is coming. I think most of us have felt it for a while. Whatever was messing with Spi.." My voice breaks and I clear my throat. “Spike’s head, I think it’s killing girls.”

“What do you mean, Buffy?” Giles asks, tilting his head and taking on a curious but troubled expression.

“I’ve had a couple of dreams lately,” I clarify, watching Willa diligently taking her milk. “They feel like slayer dreams.”

“Go on,” He prompts.

“In them, I see these girls, and they’re being chased. I can’t ever see who’s chasing them, but I can feel how terrified they are,” I tell him, and I can almost see their faces again. “Anyway, whoever was chasing them caught up to them and…”

“Yes?” He asks.

“Killed them,” I say, looking over at him. “They had what looked like human hands, and these really weird looking daggers.”

“Can you tell who or where they are?”

“Not… not exactly. Not local. One was what looked like somewhere in the middle east. The other was at like a high rise mall or something. There were lots of signs everywhere in some foreign language, like maybe German or Polish or something like that.”

He nods silently for a moment, looking lost in thought. “Anything else you can remember?”

“The last one, she looked at me and said something as she was laying there dying.”

“Oh?”

“From beneath you, it devours. That’s all I remember.”

“Have you any idea what it means?” He gives me another curious look.

“No. Not at all,” I say. I’m still puzzling on that one.

“Well, it’s not much to go on, but I’ll certainly check it out.” He answers.

“Now, if you would please…” I give him my most steely look. “Get out.”

He seems startled for a second, but then his look changes to something more resolute. “Buffy, you can’t seriously continue to hold what happened against me.” He starts arguing again.

“Get out!” I raise my voice, and Willa starts to cry.

“I did it to protect you, Buffy! You and your child! Why must you continue…”

“NO! You did it because you couldn't stand the idea that Spike was in love with me, even with the soul! You never gave him any of the million chances you gave Angel. NEVER! NOW GET OUT!” I scream at him, making Willa cry even louder, and I start joining her. 

Tara puts herself right in between Giles and us and tells him he agreed to leave without argument.

“Giles?” I hear Xander in the foyer now. “Maybe you should go.”

“Or maybe Buffy needs to listen to reason,” He argues.

“Or maybe you shouldn’t tempt fate with a vengeance demon in the room,” Anya says. I can tell by the way her voice has deepened that she’s in her demon face.

“Giles... just, go, ok? Please?” Xander says, sounding almost as tired and sad as I feel at the moment. “Now’s not the time.”

I don’t hear him argue anymore, but I’m not going to look up at him. I’m not. I’m going to keep staring at my beautiful little girl and hold her to me.

I hear the door close, but I continue staring at my little miracle, as she starts to calm down and return to drinking her bottle.

“Buffy?” I look up to see Dawn’s innocent face in front of me and realize that she’s kneeling on the floor and has one hand on my arm, and the other holding a tissue out to me.

Her deep blue eyes are so sweet and understanding, that’s it is almost my undoing. I take the tissue from her and try to dab my eyes with it, but for some reason, I just start crying harder.

“It’s ok, Buffy,” I feel Dawn put her arms around me. “He’s gone. We won’t let him back in, ever again. If you have any more dreams, you just write them down and we’ll send him a message. Maybe we can even ask the council to send you a new watcher?” She sounds so sure of herself. So mature, and resolute.

I look up at her and see that she really is certain. Her softness and grace having an underlying frame of steel to it. I smooth down her hair on one side, bringing a smile to her face. “When did you get to be so grown up?”

“What can I say, I had a good role model,” She smiles even bigger. “Besides, who needs a stuffy old British guy anyway.” She says, returning the gesture and smoothing down my hair. “Everything’s going to be just fine. Just you wait and see.”

“I hope so, Dawn,” I answer, looking down at Willa. “It has to be.”

“Exactly!” Dawn’s voice sounds like she’s trying too hard to be upbeat. “You just wait and see! Little Willa here is going to be our good luck charm! I bet things will be looking up in no time!”

God, I hope so. I really, really do.

And right then, something just seems to click inside me. Or flips like a switch or something. This tiny little person is completely depending on me to take care of her. Keep her safe. Feel warm and loved. And I really want… no need… to do that for her. I need to make this a better and safer place for her. I need to protect her. I need to give her all the love Spike would have given her, and mine too.

And I make her a silent little promise that I will do everything in my power to make sure that happens. Slayer shelf life be damned. We’re in this together, little one, and it’s going to be one a hell of a ride.


	19. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Warning... strong language. Lots and lots of it.*

_October 11, 2000_

This bloody fecking day has done nothing but gone arse over tits! I hate this whole bloody week already, and now I can add one more bit of shite to the list of why. I had one damn goal, kill that cocksucking Toth once he splits the idiot boy in two. That way the git can have his whole self-awareness party before Willow-wanna-spell can put him back together. The whole bloody lot of the brain trust crew didn’t even bother to wonder where the bastard of a demon disappeared to and toddled off with the one Xander. Meanwhile, I’m stuck fighting the damned thing in this pongy junkyard, and the blighter gets a shot off right as I knock his head off. Should have snapped the bloomin’ Ferula Gemina first and then worried about the demon.

So here I am, trying to figure out what the bloody fuck to do. The slayer bitch is sight unseen so far, which is the one bright spot in the whole thing. She’d stake my arse in a half a heartbeat and then we’d both be dead. But that’s not what I’m worried about. She can stake all the vamps she wants, as long as it isn’t me or Spike. Which is why I’m pacing outside his damn crypt like a stupid git trying to figure out if there’s another way to fix this.

I can’t go to Buffy. She’d assume I’ve been turned and stake me before I could get a word in edgewise. ‘She’s more hands-on and that’s worked quite well for her.’ Fecking bellend can’t be bothered to teach his own damn slayer what she needs to know. Can’t go to Willow, because she’s got to deal with Xander. Can’t go to Tara right now because…

“Fuck, I’m hungry! Again!”

I drank every bit of the blood I had in the room. Not that it was much, because when I’m all together I don’t need much at all. I already hit the only butcher shop open this late and gave him everything I had, which wasn’t a lot. But apparently, this side of me is hungry like an empty fledge on its birthday.

“Slayer?” I hear his voice behind me.

“Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. Great! Fucking great! Why do you hate me?” I shout at the sky. I know the Powers that Be have to be listening, the berks.

“Or apparently former slayer’s more like it.” He says. “Rotten bit of luck, that. Wouldn’t recommend you hang out here though unless you’re plannin’ on having the slayer stake you.”

Definitely arse over tits. Now I don’t have a choice. Just have to hope that he’ll listen before he stakes me himself.

“I need your help, Spike.” I turn and tell him.

“Uh, that’d be a no! Slayer’d have my head if she caught wind of me helping a turned slayer.”

“I haven’t been turned…”

“Slayer,” He laughs. “You’ve got no heartbeat, and you’ve assumed room temperature… so to speak... Yeah, you’re dead, luv. Or, well, undead. Props for getting control of your game face so quick though. How long you been awake?”

“I don’t have a game face, Spike! This…” I point to my eyes and then my fangs. “Is all the game face my kind has.”

“Your kind?” He asks, squinting at me.

“Yes, my kind, you bloody tosser!” I fairly growl at him. Wait a minute. I can still pull this off. I don’t have to tell him everything! “Fuck yes!” I accidentally scream a little enthusiastically.

“Easy there, slayer! May not look it, but I can still dust you before you can…”

“What, Spike?” I ask, suddenly in his face. He’s stunned. He definitely didn’t anticipate me moving that quick. “Before I can what? I’m not a fucking fledge!”

I catch myself and back off several steps and crumple down in the grass next to a headstone. He’s right. He’s got a hundred plus years on me and I’m lucky he didn’t stake me outright. I can feel his anger at my challenge rolling off of him in waves. Who says he has no self-control?

“Look, just give me a couple of minutes to explain, yeah?” I look up at him and I’m pissed as hell that I’m trying not to cry. Because why the fuck am I trying to cry?

He gives me a shrewd look, and I try my damndest to patiently wait, but eventually, I settle into banging the back of my head on the stone to take my mind off the hunger.

“Have you fed, luv?” His voice is soft, sympathetic, but also cautious.

I laugh.

“You mean have I killed?” I ask.

“Long and short of it, yeah.” He answers.

“No.” Have to be careful here. “I had a pint in the mini fridge in my room. Bought two liters at the butcher on Redwood. Everyone else was already closed.”

“A pint in your room?” He takes the bait.

“That’s what I need to explain,” I tell him. I know he can’t pass that up. He’s curious and intuitive. I bet he’s already trying to puzzle this whole thing out. I go back to the rhythmic banging on the headstone, punctuating each one with a vigorous, “Fuck!” At least the pain in my head gives me something else to think about.

I hear him blow out a sigh of exasperation and can’t help the smile that comes to my face, knowing he’s going to help.

“Come inside, slayer, before you crack your skull. Got a few pints in the fridge. Not much, but it’ll take the edge off.”

I scramble up and follow him inside. He shuts and bars the door. I’m not sure what to think about that.

“Wouldn’t due to have the other slayer come crashing in before you’ve said your piece, now would it?” He answers my questioning look offhandedly.

“Also keep me from running out to grab a snack?” I roll my eyes at him.

“That too,” He answers.

“I’m not a bloody fledge! I’m just hungry like one!” I finish with a frustrated sigh.

“So you say,” He answers, his head in the fridge. “How ‘bout you explain that to me?”

“Ok, but you have to promise to let me finish before you rush to judgment.” My answer is resolute.

“Fair enough,” He says, placing two cups on the sarcophagus in front of me. “Talk.”

I grab the first cup and gulp the cold and fetid swill down as I turn and lean against the sarcophagus, and slide down to a sitting position. I take several deep breaths and call up all the quick meditation I can muster at the moment to convince myself I’m full and definitely not hungry.

“The demon at the dump. His name is Toth. The weapon he had is called a Ferula Gemina.”

“Twin stick?” He huffs out a laugh. "Odd name for a weapon."

“You speak Latin?” I’m a little shocked, and a little not. I’ve read a lot of theories about Spike. Some think he was well educated.

“Just enough to get myself in trouble,” He answers. I file that away for later.

“Whoever is hits, it splits them into two separate beings. We assume the blighter was trying to kill Buffy by splitting her into her human and slayer halves. Then all he has to do is kill the human half, and the slayer half dies because one half can’t live without the other.”

“Go on,” He prompts.

“He hit Xander instead. So right now there’s a suave Xander and an idiot Xander running around.”

“And what’s this got to do with you?”

“After he hit Xander, I got him away from the others. I killed the bastard, right as he hit me with that blasted Ferula Gemina.”

Wonder how long it will take him to figure it out? I reach up and grab the other cup. This one I drink much more slowly. I can feel the hunger starting to slake, finally. And apparently so is my temper. Yeah, I can be a right hangry bitch, but I hadn’t realized how out of hand it had gotten. And now he’s standing in front of me and giving me quite the look. I’m usually good at reading people, but my brains are shite just now. Is he angry? Suspicious? Who the fuck knows.

“It’s a good story, luv, but doesn’t add up.” He finally says, squatting down to my level.

“So here’s the part that makes it add up,” I look up at him. “I was born half slayer and half vampire.”

He shoots upright and back three feet, looking at me like I’ve just thrown holy water at him and I can’t help but laugh.

“Not possible,” He finally says, and his tone is angry. I’m sure he thinks I’m lying. Gotta be careful here or I’ll give away more than I mean to.

“Totally possible. But only with certain vampire breeds, and only with a slayer or a potential slayer. Been using a fucking veil to hide my bloody abomination status since I was a kid. When Toth hit me with the Ferula Gemina, it split me into my slayer and vampire halves.”

He’s pacing the crypt now. Good. At least he isn’t questioning me.

“It’s an easy spell to put the two halves back together. But someone has to catch the slayer half first. That’s why I need your help. I can’t go to Buffy. She’ll stake me on sight. Giles would never believe me. Willow is taking care of Xander. I can’t go up against the slayer half. If one of us kills the other, we both die. We need to find her, tranq her if necessary. Don’t know how much of a primal she’ll be. Could be anything from mostly human to pure slayer. Once we’ve got her, Tara can do the spell to put us back together.” I rest my head against the sarcophagus. The rest is up to him now.

He paces. And paces, and paces, and paces. Occasionally stopping directly in front of me for a few tics and then pacing again. I’d wonder what he’s thinking, but I’m concentrating on meditation. The mind can do some serious shite if you know how to work it.

He stops in front of me again and stands there. I wait. He’ll eventually say whatever the hell he’s thinking.

“When were you born, luv?” He asks.

“Just turned twenty-five.” Evade and elude.

“Not what I asked, now, is it?” He counters.

Fuck. Fecking, bloody, fucking, fuckety fuck. Stupid shite for brains! Two thousand minus twenty-five puts your birthday in ‘75 you dozy cow. Nikki Wood was the slayer and I’m not exactly the right race to be hers, and he damn well knows what the slayer he killed looks like.

So now what? If I tell him the truth it could jeopardize everything. If I don’t, it could jeopardize everything. If my other half is pure slayer, and given the dynamics of my heritage it could be, there’s no way I can find her, capture her, and get us to Tara to do the spell. Not by myself.

“August 25th, 2002,” I say as I open my eyes to see he’s once again sitting on his heels in front of me, and I stare straight into his eyes… and wait.

He slowly stands up, a look of confusion and disbelief clouding his face. His mouth is agape, and his brows knit together, and storms are brewing in his eyes. For the first time, it really strikes me just how expressive he really is. He turns away from me and paces forward a few steps, running his left hand through his hair and resting it against the back of his neck for several moments. Very fucking long moments. When he finally turns back around, I see there’s still an arse load of doubt in those eyes.

“Look, slayer…”

“My real name is Ophelia Willamena Summers.”

He shuffles back a few steps and stares at me with dawning comprehension.

“Ophelia for Vivian Leigh in Hamlet in 1937. The rest speaks for itself.”

He trips over nothing and ends up on his arse on the ground a few feet in front of me.

“I was sent back in time to help my mother avert what basically amounts to the end of the world for humans.”

As I continue watching him, I see that something finally clicks in place for him. His expression goes from one of shocked disbelief to one of complete awe and wonder. I can see how a girl could fall for that. I think all of us hope that someday a guy will look at us that way. The way Thomas used to look at me. If this is the way he looks at my mother in the future, I can only come to one inescapable conclusion. He loved her to the very depths of his soul, even without one.

“Hi, dad.” I give him a rather watery, and slightly fangy, smile.

In return, I hear his sharp gasp of breath and see his eyes start to well up. It’s my undoing, and I launch myself at him, throwing my arms around him in the hug I’ve wanted to give him since I was old enough to know his name. It only takes a second before his arms are slowly folding around me, and then tighter and tighter until I’m suddenly grateful my vampire half doesn’t need to breathe. Or have circulation.

I have no idea how long we sit there like that. Not that it really matters. Only it sort of does. Because we really need to find my other half and put me back together.

“Not that I’m keen to end this moment,” I say, still crushing him probably as much as he’s crushing me. “But, we still need to find the other me and get Tara to put us back together.”

He nods, and loosens his hold, bringing his hands to my shoulders and looking at me. His left hand smooths over my hair and then goes back to my shoulder, as I see a question form in his eyes.

“Does Buffy…” He begins, but his voice breaks, and he tries again. “Does she know?”

“No,” I shake my head. “No one knows. And it has to stay that way. It’s already jeopardizing everything just by you knowing.” I tell him, half pleading and half commanding.

“Yeah,” He nods, using his right hand now to smooth the other side of my hair. “Can see how that might be a problem.”

“I mean it!” I assert more forcefully. “You can’t tell anyone! Even Tara can’t know who I am, just what I am. She’ll understand why she needs to keep it a secret.”

He gives me an uncertain look that I can’t quite read.

“One condition, luv.” He pauses.

I give him my own dubious look. This really isn’t up for debate.

“I get to know everything I can about my…” His voice fails him once more. His left hand cups my chin and he looks earnestly into my eyes. “About you. Whatever you can tell me, petal. Is that ok?”

“Yeah,” I nod and dive back in for another hug. I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of this in whatever time we have left. “Whatever I can.”

Even if I never do manage to save the world. It sort of feels right now like I already have.


	20. Chapter 19

_September 21, 2002_

My sleep was fitful as the flashes of memories long past played in front of my eyes.

_"Rupert... I was raised by the people that Angel hurt the most. My duty to them was the first thing I was ever taught. I didn't come here to hurt anyone, and I lied to you because I thought it was the right thing to do. I... I didn't know what would happen. I didn't know I was gonna fall in love with you... Oh, God. Is it too late to take that back?"_

_"Do you want to?"_

_"I just wanna be right with you. I don't expect more. I just want so badly to make all this up to you."_

_"I understand. But I'm not the one you need to make it up to."_

 

The memory of meeting her in the old Sunnydale High faded into another, in her classroom.

 

_"I spoke to Buffy today."_

_"Oh? Yes?"_

_"Mmm hmm. She said you missed me."_

_"Well, uh, she's... a meddlesome girl."_

_"Rupert... Okay, I don't wanna say anything if I'm wrong, but I may have some news. Now, I need to finish up here. Could I see you later?"_

_"Y-yes, yes... You could stop by my house."_

 

The anticipation infuses me to the bone as I look forward to seeing her later. I’d never before given my heart to a woman. Not really. It was far too dangerous in my line of work. I suddenly feel like a bit of a schoolboy with the fluttering heartbeat and stomach slightly nervous with the anticipation of what is to come. Every single thought and feeling is as raw and new as if it were happening all over again.

 

_Arriving home to see the single red rose on the door._

_Walking in to the sound of Puccini singling O Soave Fanciulla on the Victrola._

_Seeing the champagne basin filled with ice and a lovely bottle of Cuvée William Deutz._

_The note that simply read, “Upstairs.”_

_The elation suffusing my very being at allowing myself to openly love her, and have it returned._

_The square glasses with softly scented candles placed on the end of each step._

_The roses and petals scattered on each step and on the landing._

_The look of her eyes staring into the vast nothingness of death._

 

I barely registered the wetness of the champagne that I’d dropped or the glass clinging to my pants leg and shoes. I’d been functioning on a sort of autopilot after that. I don’t even recall calling the police, but I must have. I recall calling Buffy and telling her Jenny was dead. I recall Willow’s frantic pleading as the line goes dead. I recall going to the station and answering questions, though what questions I can’t remember. How I got home, I don’t recall either. What came after though…

 

_The feeling of complete consuming rage that filled me as I pulled the sword from the chest._

_The satisfaction of recalling without hesitation the precise proportions of a good molotov cocktail._

_The thrill of picturing Angel burning as I pick up the small can of petrol._

_The need to feel a solid crunch as I test the weight of the bat in my hands._

_Marching in precisely measured steps carrying me closer and closer to my objective._

_My need for vengeance… for retribution… for death…_

_My thirst for blood and ash_

_My heart screaming, no howling, each beat._

_My mind screaming an unending litany of “Jenny!” with each and every step I take._

_The feel of the glass, cold in my hand as I pull out my lighter and light the cloth._

_The sheer joy as I toss it next to that monster._

_The sharpness of the string as I load the crossbow and fire it just slightly off center._

_The determination as I take up the bat, dip the petrol-soaked wood into flame and swing._

_The resounding, elated, “YES!” my brain and heart cheer at every strike I land._

_The shock of being throttled._

_The thanks I internally offered at the knowledge that I'd see her again in just moments._

_The need to be with her, even if it meant dying in that very moment._

_Every cell crying out for her, reaching out for her as darkness overtook me._

 

And then it had all been cut short. The next thing I knew Buffy was hauling me up and out of the burning factory. I am so angry. She’d stopped me for going to her… to Jenny. Why? Why didn’t she let me die? 

 

_"Why did you come here?! This wasn't your fight!"_

_"Are you trying to get yourself killed??? You can’t leave me! I can’t do this alone!"_

 

I feel the incredible force of Buffy’s fist connecting with my face. I'm sure it’ll be a dark and ugly bruise in the morning. The punch breaks something inside me and all the grief and loss I feel come spilling out in torrents of salt pouring down my face. Buffy begins to cry and throws her arms around me and it only serves to deepen my despair. I still want to go to her, to abandon this mortal realm of pain and misery and go to her. But I can’t. Buffy is my charge and she needs me. I know she’s also grieving and hurting in her own way. She’s but a child and can’t begin to fathom the depth of pain crying out from my soul as my heart crumbles and turns to dust. 

Never again. Can’t risk it. Not when it hurts like this. 

 

_"I've buried... too many people. But Jenny was the first I've loved."_

 

I wake clutching the soaked bedclothes as I gasp for air that doesn’t seem to want to come to my shuddering lungs and praying that the stuttering beat of my heart will finally bring the peace of death. Anything would be better than this nightmare of feeling the promise of love so acutely and then so painfully reliving her death every time I close my eyes. 

I haven't truly slept for weeks now. I've tried everything I can possibly find, purchase, or conjure to rid my mind of these nightmares. I've even sought a mystic who could only tell me that this is a curse that only I myself can break. This exhaustion pulls me into the nightmares at odd moments, despite my desperation to stay awake to avoid seeing her once more, her still body draped across my bed, her unseeing eyes accusing me...

_"Where were you when I was murdered?"_

She had died alone. She must have been terrified, desperately hoping for someone to come and save her. How soon after I left had he killed her? Was I in the school still? The parking lot? Could I have reached her in time? I can feel myself searching through the school in terror, trying desperately to find her, to save her... only to watch as he snaps her neck before my eyes. The knowledge of being too late might as well have ripped my heart from my own chest.

But that never happened. I wasn't there, searching in desperation to save her, even at my own peril.

But Buffy was... for him.

I stumble my way to the small bathroom adjacent to my bedroom, and glance in the mirror. I’ve aged years in just the last few weeks. Bags would be a generous name for these circles that have sunken around my hollowed eyes. My face is gaunt. My skin has gone pale and ashen. Except for the dark blue and purple bruise on the left side of my jaw that never seems to heal. My face is rough with days of unchecked growth along my cheeks and chin. I don’t even recall the last time I’ve eaten, or what it was. I’ve seen homeless street beggars who looked less haggard than I do now.

I know what this is. This is purgatory. Absence from the divine as punishment for my sins. This is my penance. I’d long forgotten the enormity of my pain and despair when Jenny died and the tears that seemed to emerge from within my very soul itself as I wept for her. I had forgotten the hope and joy I felt at finally finding someone I felt comfortable and safe falling in love with. I'd forgotten the feeling of the fragile predicament of complete vulnerability when I placed my heart in her hands. And it wasn’t even her that ruthlessly crushed it beneath their heel. I’d forgotten how much I wanted to do nothing more than claw away the dirt over her grave and climb into that coffin with her, using my last breath to whisper her name in a plea and a prayer that whatever powers existed would reunite me with her in the afterlife. 

Is this what Buffy felt? Have I matched the evil that Angelus perpetrated against me? Have I wounded her as deeply as Angelus wounded me? Has what I’ve done left her unable to ever truly love another? Angelus had been without a soul when he murdered Jenny. I have no such excuse.

And then another face is looking back at me in the mirror. The memory of Jenny may be haunting every moment of my sleep, but there is another face that haunts every one of my waking moments. 

The face staring back at me is that of Buffy’s, frozen at the moment that night when she’d just rounded the bottom of the stairs and saw what remained of him… the man I murdered... because he’d dared to love my slayer.

A sound wrenches itself from somewhere inside me. A howl? A deep and mournful cry of despair. What have I done? Good lord, what have I done. I can’t undo any of it. But I can give her the peace of knowing that I understand now just how wrong I was, and how much pain I have caused her. 

I find myself on her doorstep what seems like only moments later, still in my loungewear and slippers. 

“I’ll get it!” I hear her sweet voice call from inside. 

The door opens and I see her standing there, looking at me, judging me for my crimes. She says something, but my mind doesn’t comprehend it. It’s as if I’m listening to her from underwater. 

I do the only thing I can… I fall to my knees and beg her forgiveness as my strangled voice confesses my sins. I am a penitent man come to confession but without any hope of absolution. There is none for me. Fate has seen to it that I suffer the very same pain that I have caused her every moment of every night. 

I’m a slobbering mess of sweat and salt, begging over and over for her forgiveness for what feels like hours, and yet will never be enough. I can’t undo what I’ve done, but I will do what I can. I’ve robbed her of the eternal joy brought about by love. I’ve taken a child’s father from her, and all the love he could have given her. My actions have stolen the light from her eyes and the peace from her heart. In my stubborn blindness, I presumed to render judgment on a soul as if I were God himself. Ripping from him the only available promise of his own absolution, or as close to it as he might have ever come. I am as much a monster as the one who took Jenny from me. More so. The only thing that matters now is what I do to pay for those crimes. 

And then absolution finds me as I feel her arms folding around me, just as they did that night so long ago. And once again something inside me breaks. Though it isn’t for myself or Jenny this time. It is for the woman and the child whose souls I have forever tarnished by my actions. Their world can never be made right again. 

I’m sorry my dear girl. So, so sorry. I was wrong. 

“Yes… you were.” 

I wasn't even aware I was still talking out loud.

Her arms turn loose of me and I’m suddenly even more bereft at the loss. 

“I… I know you thought you were doing the right thing…”

“It wasn’t!” I interrupt her. “I know that now!” I’m pleading again for her to understand. “I know the pain I’ve caused you. Both of you. All three of you. I’m so sorry…” I’m blubbering again. 

“Then it’s a start. I… I’m not ready to forgive you. Not yet. I know you need me to, but...”

The silence stretches between us as I wait to hear her command of what I should do. I will sleep on her doorstep until she commands me if need be. 

“Do you remember when those two ghosts were haunting the high school and possessed me and Angel?”

I search my memory. It doesn’t take long. It was shortly after Jenny’s murder. In my desperate mourning of her, I had convinced myself that it was somehow her beautiful and tragic spirit haunting the school.

“I told you back then that I didn’t understand how she could forgive him for what he’d done.”

I remember. She’d been consumed with self-loathing at the time, seeing herself as the student who had murdered his love in an act of desperation, deserving only eternal hatred and punishment, completely unworthy of any possible forgiveness. 

“I think… I think I finally understand. I’m not there yet. But I think at some point… I will be.”

It is more than I could have hoped for. More than I deserve. Far, far, more.

“Go home, Giles. You look like hell. Get some sleep. Come back tomorrow and we’ll talk. I can’t promise anything. But we’ll talk.”

I nod. Her words are a soothing balm to my soul. I pick myself up and return to my flat, determined to carry out her command that I sleep, even if it will offer me no rest… only more pain. As I close the door and shuffle to the bed, I don’t even bother with my clothing. I fall to the bed and shed whatever tears are possibly left for the three lives I’ve forever changed, and for my love, my Jenny, whom I have no hope of ever seeing again. Not with the sins I’ve committed. I deserve hell… and this is it. 

My head touches the pillow, and I drift off to sleep dreading the nightmare to come. But for the first time in three weeks, my sleep is only full of the darkness of sweet oblivion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some dialogue from Season 2, episode 19 - Passion.


	21. Chapter 20

_October 12, 2000_

After searching until the not so wee hours of the morning, we still hadn’t found any sign of my slayer half. My hunger had finally settled enough that I wasn’t worried about running into anyone. Not that I can’t control myself, obviously I can, otherwise, a whole bunch of Sunnydale citizens would have ended up on the menu as I tried to decide what to do and where to go. But I don’t want to be that bitchy hangry person that has to constantly convince myself that I’m not hungry. 

I’m rather angry however, that the loss of my slayer half seems to have dulled my tracking and sensing abilities. I’d always assumed it was the vampire side that contributed the most to those, but apparently, it’s the slayer side because it’s only about a third of what I can usually do without having to even think about it. My only consolation is that even my father’s tracking ability, with his advanced age, isn’t a whole lot better than my current level of ability. Even so, neither of us has been able to sense the slayer half, who should be running around here somewhere. Clearly, she’s not dead, or I would be as well. 

With dawn approaching, my father reminds me that being wholly a vampire at the moment, I no longer have the luxury of walking about in daylight. So we either have to hide out in the crypt and wait until nightfall, or go to Tara and see if she can perhaps do a locator spell or something to help us find the slayer half of me. Given the possibility of my potentially primal slayer half running into my mother, I opted out of urgency to go ahead and see Tara. 

Beating, I mean knocking, on the door I hear a lot of noise coming from inside her dorm room. I sense her approach the door as she asks who’s there. I answer that it’s me, of course. She very cautiously opens the door and asks me what I want, as she also notices Spike standing behind me. 

“So, for complete disclosure here, I’m a vampire. Like Spike.” I thumb and indication in his direction. “And I know this is going to sound really weird, but I need your help to do a spell to find my other half, who’s a slayer,” I ramble on. I’m just about to go into more detail as I feel Spike’s hand on my shoulder.

“Pet,” He interrupts. “I do believe the witch already knows why you’re here.”

“She does?” I look at him over my shoulder. “How?”

He seems to ignore my question.

“Don’t you?” He asks Tara instead, with an amused look. 

She opens the door a bit wider, and steps to the side, giving us a full view of my other half sitting in a chair with her feet pulled up, and looking at me rather quizzically. 

“Buggering hell!” I shout out, much louder than I intended. Which quickly leads to Spike’s hand covering my mouth. 

“Let’s not wake the whole building, yeah?” He asks, and I nod my agreement.

“Do you know how long we’ve been looking for you?” I stage whisper to my other half. “All, fecking night! Where the bloody hell have you been?” 

All I get is an amused look in return.

“She’s b-been here for several hours. I wasn’t c-certain how to f-find you, or if I even should.” Tara answers for her.

“Has she said anything? She hasn’t hurt you, has she? She wouldn’t mean to, but might accidentally.” I fire off in rapid succession. 

“Umm…” she squints in thought. “Sh-She hasn’t said a lot, but it was enough. And n-no, she hasn’t h-hurt me at all. She seems as if she’s almost a-afraid to touch anything.”

“Oh thank the gods!” I mumble out in relief. “Look, I know that you know better than to invite a vamp into your room, but I don’t think this is the sort of discussion we should be having in the hall. I won’t hurt you, I promise!” 

“Not that I’m disagreeing with you slayer, but… it’s been a while since you’ve had anything to eat, and I’m not as confident about your control yet.” My father adds behind me. Which really pisses me off. 

“How many times do I have to tell you I’m not a fucking fledge!” I virtually growl at him. 

He gives me a look that clearly says, “I told you so.” 

“Fine. Fine. Whatever.” I turn back to Tara. “He’s right. You know he can’t hurt you since he has the chip, but it doesn’t stop him from hurting me. So, if you invite both of us in, he can make sure I behave myself. Plus, you’ve got a slayer in there who’s probably just itching to stake both of us.”

“Y-You might be surprised,” Tara answers cryptically. “Hope, Spike, w-won’t you come in?”

For a moment, I’m really not sure that her invitation will work, since Hope isn’t my given name. But then again, Spike isn’t my father’s given name either. So I step through the door, easy as you please, followed by my father. 

“Appreciate it, luv,” My father offers all gentlemanly. For about the billionth time, I wonder about the somewhat unknown enigma that is my father. But I don’t have much time to talk about that now. 

“Yes, thanks!” I offer as well. 

I look around noting the decorations, posters, and various books spread about the room. This is a little different from the Tara who raised me as a small child. She was more organized and didn’t leave her books around for me to find. She was also more confident of herself than this Tara is right now. When I was growing up, I only ever remember her stutter when she was really angry, well as angry as she ever got, or really worried. Then again, she’s probably pretty worried right now.

“So, you want the long story or the short version?” I ask, smiling warmly at her, trying not to show my fangs. 

“Short?” She answers. “U-unless you think long would be better?” 

“Short it is,” I reply. “We fought a demon at the landfill. It had a weapon that splits people into two, each side getting certain parts of the whole. After everyone left, I ran into the demon again, and it hit me with the staff, splitting me into my two sides. You with me so far?”

She nods.

“Here’s the part I am hoping you’ll both believe and keep secret, even from Willow and Buffy. Especially Buffy. And Giles! Everyone!” I’m rambling again. “Sorry. It’s just really important. I was born half slayer and half vampire. Only a very, very, few people know about what I am, because if word got out it would turn into open season from demons and humans alike. So, anyway, when I got hit with the staff, it split me into my vampire side and my slayer side. Neither one can live without the other, so if one side dies…”

“So does the other,” Tara finishes my statement. 

I nod, noticing my father inching closer towards my slayer side sitting in the chair, observing her. 

“Um, Spike? I wouldn’t get too close, we don’t know how primal she is.” I warn him.

That’s when I notice that my slayer half is staring quite intently at my father as well. A moment of panic creeps up on me, and I wonder if my slayer side hasn’t divulged to Tara not just what I am, but who I am. Or more specifically, whose. 

“Stop!” My slayer half commands, holding up a hand in warning as my father takes another step toward her. Talk about how curiosity killed the cat. Except in his case, there is no being brought back if she kills him. “Please! Don’t come closer!” Her voice pleads with him. 

“Slayer?” My warning is obvious and she seems to understand it intuitively. She looks between him and I and simply shakes her head. 

Good. This is good. She hasn’t said anything. 

“Just… no closer. Please?” She is once again pleading with him. He seems to understand and backs up several steps. 

“She showed up several hours ago, asking for my help to find you,” Tara explained. “She’s afraid you might hurt each other but she said you would eventually come to find me.”

She seems confused by that part. I’m not exactly sure how to explain why we’d both end up seeking her out, but I have to tell her something. 

“When we’re together, we can sense a lot of things about people and demons. We can track a person with even a tiny bit of demon in them,” I see her duck her head. I hate to use her family’s stupidity against her, but it’ll help ensure she keeps my secret for now. “And we can also sense the inherent goodness in people. And there is nothing but good in you. So we both knew without a doubt that you’d help us, and that you won’t tell anyone about what we are.”

She nods, then seems to consider something and looks back up at me. 

“I’m not sure that I can do the spell to put you together, though. We might need to ask Willow. She has a lot more power than I do.” She demurs.

“You underestimate yourself, Tara,” I tell her firmly. “Your strength is immense, but tempered by your kindness. You have so much more in you than you know. Besides, the spell is almost child’s play. Some candles, a circle, and a couple of words, and I’m back to being one person instead of two.”

“O-ok,” She accepts. “I will, you know?” She adds. “Keep your secret. I understand.” She smiles. 

“I know you do,” I smile back. “Now, let’s get this show on the road!”

Five minutes later, some blessed sand, and some candles, and my slayer half and I are standing inside the center of the pentagram. She’s much more coiled than I am. As if she’s almost in pain. Then again, I suppose with me and Spike both in the room with her, she very well may be. It’s probably taking everything in her not to turn and try to twist my head off. Or Spike’s for that matter. A few words later, and suddenly I’m all me again.

“Yes!” I give a little fist pump as I feel my senses magnify exponentially. I hear the sharp gasp of breath come from my father, and quickly realize that not only are my senses back to normal but so is the signature my unique status sends out. 

“Ascunde-mă,” My command instantly engages my veil, blocking the signals that being a dhampir apparently sends out. My father instantly relaxes, but also seems a little pained. 

“You use a veil?” Tara asks me. “That’s why it’s so hard to see your aura! I was beginning to think something was wrong with me!” She laughs gently. “I should have guessed.”

“I have to,” I answer her. “What with the whole open season thing. When I’m myself, demons and anything supernatural seems to get this sort of really powerful early warning signal from me, telling them exactly what I am. As far as I know, all dhampir have it, we can’t help it. But with some practice, we can hide it.”

“So you really are half slayer and half vampire?” She asks, curiously. 

“You just had the proof standing in front of you,” I give her a chuckle. “So, what did my slayer half tell you?” I try to smoothly slide that in.

“Just that she was h-half of you. The other half was vampire. That you would c-come to find me eventually to fix you. She seemed kind of… lost? Like she was really m-missing something or someone." 

“Well, she sort of was, wasn’t she?” Spike answers offhandedly, pretending to be looking at the books Tara has laying around. 

“Yes, you’re right. She was. She seemed very sad. I think she really worried about you. And Spike, for some reason. I-I wonder if p-perhaps, maybe, since both sides of you are supernatural, y-you really need each other to provide the s-strength that comes from balance. Maybe t-together, you're something better?" 

That surprises me. My vampire half hadn't really considered that the slayer half would be worried about her. 

“If you d-don’t mind me asking,” She give me a curious look. “I understand wh-why she came to me, but why did y-you go to Spike?”

Hoo boy! That’s a loaded question. Or maybe it really isn’t. 

“For the same reason, my slayer side came to you,” The answer is only slightly cryptic. “Remember? I can sense a lot of things about people. Not just what they are, but also what kind of person they are.”

“Oi! You take that back, slayer!” My father protests a little too vehemently. I ignore him.

“My vampire side knew without a doubt he’d help me, just like my slayer side knew you would.”

“I am not a white hat!” He insists. 

“No, not yet,” I answer, sending him a quick wink. “I’m sure you’ve got all sorts of evil schemes just swirling around in that head of yours.”

“Damn right I do!” He agrees. “Now… if you’ll excuse me, ladies, by my reckoning I’ve got about 10 minutes to make it back to the crypt unless I want to camp out in the sewers all day,” He says as he stomps over to the door. “And don’t think you can just barge into my crypt whenever you feel like it, slayer!” He gives me a pointed glare. 

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it!” I give him an epic eye roll for good measure. “Who’d want to hang out in your musty old crypt anyway?” 

“That’s right! Musty… dank… terrible place. Not a fit place for anyone with a pulse.” He insists.

“Absolutely!”

“Right!” 

“Bye, Spike,” I smile. 

“Right…” He pauses a moment as if to say something else but then opens the door and leaves. 

I’m confident with his speed he’ll be able to make it back to the crypt in time. 

I notice Tara has an odd look on her face as she’s staring after him. 

“I don’t think it’s possible for any other demon to be that confused and conflicted,” I laugh. 

“He is a little mixed up, isn’t he?” She giggles a bit. 

“You have no idea!” I stress. “Now, not to steal his thunder with such a monumental exit, but I’m completely exhausted and I bet you are too!” I tell her. “I can’t thank you enough for helping me with this. And for keeping my secret. I can’t stress how important that is!” 

“I won’t tell anyone. P-promise.” She nods. 

“Thanks,” I give her a hug, and I can tell she wasn’t expecting it. “I’ll let myself out.”

As I make my way back to my little room at the motel. I ponder the weird events of the evening. Things definitely went pear-shaped for a while, but I think it all worked out about as well as it could have. My father knows who and what I am and didn’t even hesitate to accept it. If I’m honest with myself, I was a little worried he wouldn’t. But he did. And by the gods, it feels so good to be able to share at least some of my life with him, and hopefully to learn more about his. 

I can’t even begin to explain how good it feels to have my two halves back together. I can feel that just like my vampire half, my slayer half didn’t feel nearly as strong or attuned without the benefit of my vampire half. I guess that when it comes to dhampir, the two halves really do work together to make us stronger. My senses and tracking are exponentially improved now that I’m back to myself. I never realized just how much everything about me is way more than just the sum of my parts. I guess uncle Xander isn’t the only one who gets to have a little journey of self-discovery.

And it couldn’t have come at a better time. Because I've got the rest of this bloody awful week to get through, and if memory serves… Glory will be introducing herself in a couple of days. That means that I’ve only got seven months until my mother dies for a second time which, despite coming back or possibly because of it, somehow leads to the end of the world. And I still haven't figured out how to prevent it. 

Time is running out.


	22. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **warning - major character death**

_October 15, 2002_

I’m actually beginning to think this whole single mom thing, while more challenging than I ever gave my mother credit for, is something I can definitely do. Not just because I have to, but because of something Spike once said to me. That it’s my ties to this world that keeps me in it. Namely, my friends and family. 

I have Tara and Dawn to help me at home. If anyone had asked me a year ago, I’d have never thought it would be Tara who would end up being my saving grace, or that Dawn would have turned into this mature young woman she’s become. I wouldn’t have expected Xander and Anya to be coming over to babysit three times a week so I can patrol. Though, I really think it’s just so Anya can get her vicarious baby smooches without actually having a baby, which seems to be of the ok with Xander. I never would have thought Xander would be acting as the man of the house, checking things like he’s the new caretaker, or my friendly ex-husband or something.

And I never thought I could have so thoroughly hated Giles and Angel, only to forgive them and start letting them back in my life. Angel was first, of course. Namely, because he saw almost immediately what they’d done was wrong. Still, it took me a while to let him back in. But he was patrolling for me and we had to at least communicate. I think it was the fact he didn’t push that led to me letting him in sooner. I must admit though, he really is something with Willa. But, out of all of us, he’s also the only one who’s had a child, so I guess that makes sense. Not to mention, he's a vampire and the only one who knows anything about dhampire, even if it isn't much. For that reason alone, I’m kind of sad that he’s gone back to L.A. Then again, nothing has really changed long term for us and looking at it now, I don’t think it really ever will. I think he knows that, too. But he did say he’d be driving up every couple of weeks for a while to check on things. 

Willow took a bit longer to figure it out, but once she did she begged Tara to help her find a coven to help her. She consulted Giles, who made some suggestions and Willow ended up in England. 

And then there was Giles. I honestly didn’t think he would ever change his mind about what they did, or even why he did it. I fully expected to not only grieve losing Spike and everything we were just starting to be, or everything we possibly could have been, but also the loss of my watcher and the man I had come to think of as a father.

At some point, I came to realize that the Giles who has been present since just before the big battle with Glory isn’t really the same one I knew for four years before that. Or maybe that was the real him, and the rest was all for show. I just know that something changed in him that year that we dealt with Glory, and I didn’t really realize it until just a few weeks ago. But now, he’s changed again. And I seem to have that same person back that I used to know. It’s not the same by any means, just because I forgave him doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten or will even ever really trust him again. Not yet, anyway. He has a long way to go to prove to me that I can. But he is trying. 

I still can’t believe the way he looked and sounded when he showed up on my doorstep three weeks ago. I’ve never seen him like that. Not during the Eyghon thing, or after Ms. Calendar died, or ever really. He was so lost and broken. Not to mention smelly and gross, and looked like he hadn’t shaved or bathed in I don’t even want to speculate on how long. I don’t really know what happened, I just know that it gave me my father figure back. Even if, like my real father, the image is now tarnished. It’s different now, and I don’t think it’ll ever be like it was originally. And maybe that’s ok. We all have to outgrow our parents someday, right?

But yeah, I have friends who support me. Friends who are watching my darling little Willa while I am currently trying to thwart these really lame teenage boys who have the completely unoriginal idea of raising a demon by sacrificing a girl so they can get rich. 

It’s actually one of the tamer jobs I’ve had since I started slaying full time a week ago. Dawn’s principle even gave me a part-time job at the school. It’s just a couple of hours a day, and Tara watches Willa while I’m here at the school, even though I almost can't stand to be away from her for even those couple of hours. But it beats the heck out of the Double Meat Palace, not to mention the prospect of living on the street. 

Though, as it turns out, that’s not nearly as much of a possibility as it once was. Shortly after they… after Spike died, and after I came home with Willa, Tara gave me a letter he’d left for me as a sort of insurance card. There were two, actually. One from when he left to go get his soul, and one from just a few days before he was… Will it always be this hard?

There were a bunch of legal papers and things inside it. I didn’t know what all it meant, but they seemed really old. I gave them to Angel to see if he knew someone who could help me with whatever they were. He seemed sad at first when I handed them to him and said they were something Spike left for me and Willa and Dawn. But as he looked them over, he got a really weird sort of... happy... expression. He even laughed, but he didn’t say why. He said he’d check it all out and get back to me. Next thing I know, there’s a lawyer showing up to have me sign papers about a trust fund established for the firstborn daughter of Buffy Summers. I haven’t got a clue where the money came from, and probably don’t want to know, but I’m glad it’s there. 

The second letter itself is in my pocket. I keep it with me at all times. Call me crazy, but it helps me feel like he’s here with me. I can barely read the words anymore, many of them have blurred together as the ink ran. I don’t even notice the tears half the time when I read it until I see the ink is starting to run even more. That’s ok though. I’ve got it memorized. 

_Buffy,_

_Well, slayer, I’m not exactly what I used to be when it comes to creating lines to memorialize everything it is that I love about you, or what I feel for you. Not that I ever really was any good to begin with, but the point is, I tried. I don’t know what the future holds, but I do know for certain that I want it to be with you, no matter what happens from here on out. Of course, if you’re reading this, that plan’s gone the way the rest of them usually do and I’m nothing more than a dusty memory. I just wanted you to know that I never, ever, stopped loving you. Never did I not want you. And nothing in this world could have ever made me happier than the sight of you, heavy with our child, saying that you love me, and meaning it. There’s obviously not a lot I can do for any of you if I’m dust, and I hate that you’re having to do this on your own with the nibblet, but there is one thing I can do to help. In the envelope are some legal papers. Find someone you trust to take care of them and they should take care of you, Dawn, and the babe. At least for a little while. I left notes for the bit and the babe as well. Tara should have them. One more thing you should know. I don’t want any of you weighed down thinking on my ending or anything thereafter. I’ve had a good life. Better run than most. I lived a hell of a lot longer than you, and was dead a lot longer than that. I’ve seen things you couldn’t imagine, and done things I’d prefer you didn’t. I don’t exactly have a reputation for being a thinker. I follow my blood, which doesn’t exactly rush in the direction of my brain, so I make a lot of mistakes. A lot of wrong bloody calls. A hundred-plus years, and there’s only one thing I’ve ever been sure of. You. I love what you are, what you do, how you try. I’ve seen your kindness and your strength. I’ve seen the best and the worst of you, and I understand with perfect clarity exactly what you are. You are a hell of a woman. You’re the one, Buffy. You always were, and always will be. Spike._

“All mighty Avilas... please accept our sacrifice. Please appear before us, oh mighty soldier of the dark. Please appear before us, and grant us with infinite riches, and we will pay you with our sacrifice. We kneel before you with the gift of flesh.”

Oops! That’s my cue! Apparently mommy brain, and mourning brain, is a real thing. Almost missed it, what with the chanting, and kneeling, and other boring stuff. 

“OK, that is going on your permanent record!” I tell the cocky little blond kid. What’s his name again? Peter! 

“Wait, this is… the counselor? What the hell is she doing here?” He asks, looking wildly around at the other boys making up his lame little group.

“I-it was his idea!” One of them points at another one who’s shaking his head. 

“Back off,” Peter says as he waves a giant meat cleaver in my direction. “Get back! Get back, you stupid bitch!” He shouts. 

I kick him in the teeth. It seems like a good response. 

“Aw, you're gonna die!” He charges again, waving that cleaver.

I take out his left knee. Maybe that’ll give him a little humility. 

“Do you know how lame this is?” I ask him as he lays there clutching his knee and moaning a little. “Bored teenage boys trying to raise up a demon? Sorry, it didn't show. I bet it's 'cause you forgot the boom box playing some heavy metal thing, like... Blue Clam Cult. I think that's the key to the raising of lame demons.

“That lame demon?” He says, pointing to something he sees behind me. 

I turn, and sure enough, there is this giant seven-foot-tall thing with horns coming out of its… well, everywhere! And it’s hissing at me. And suddenly, this isn’t a game anymore. I reach for the cleaver Peter dropped and throw it at the demon, but it does little more than annoy it as the blade embeds in its chest. It pulls the blade out and tosses it aside as I try to rush the thing. It bats me aside like an annoying fly. 

I’m up quickly, but it’s already turning and coming at me. We struggle and it tosses me around a couple more times. Before I can get up again, it’s got its foot crushing my chest into the floor, and no matter how much I try to get out from under it, I can’t budge either the foot or myself. The demon just pushes harder and harder. 

Gods, what I wouldn't give for a little back up right now. I didn’t think they’d actually raise a real demon! I knew they’d try to kill Cassie, hence me being here. But I figured I could take on a hand full of pimply-faced brats. Speaking of, one of them says maybe they should help me. Peter tells them they should let the demon kill me. Two sacrifices will mean more riches. Guess I can’t argue with him there. Suddenly there’s a sickening and painful crunch in my chest. I’ve had worse though. In fact, I think it might have helped. I’m almost about to get out from under this demon’s foot enough to get free. 

And then something truly terrifying happens. A real group of robed guys with their eyes burned out comes streaming into the room, brandishing much more sinister, and familiar, looking daggers. The boys panic and start trying to either run or fight. Cassie is trying to hide. None of it is working. It’s a slaughter, and I’m powerless to stop it. The one bright spot is that it apparently confuses the demon, who takes his foot off me and backs up. 

I scramble over to Cassie, determined to get her out of here. The boys chose their fate, whether they knew it or not, but Cassie didn’t. I get her hands untied, and tell her to stay down so we can try to escape. Even the demon is even fighting the Bringers now. I should have known it was them. Should have recognized the robes from the dreams. Should have recognized the feeling they carry with them.

And then suddenly there’s nothing but white-hot pain in what feels like a dozen places. I turn and fight. What else can I do? I can’t die here. Not today. Not over a bunch of stupid boys wanting to be rich. Not when I've faced and won against hell gods and cyborgs and master vampires. Not when Willa and Dawn are at home waiting for me. Not now. Not ever. So I fight some more. 

How many times can one person be stabbed and live? Does the type of blade matter? 

I see that Cassie is down. And suddenly I realize that... so am I. The Bringers are running out. I glance around and see so many empty eyes, all staring into nothingness. 

God, I don’t want to die. Why? Why now? I want to see my daughter grow up. I want to see Dawn get married. So many things I want to do... no, I need to do. I’m not ready. Not now. Please not now.

Cassie reaches out and touches my arm as if she senses my distress… and smiles. 

“Paracelsus," She says and smiles more. "You’ll see them again. You’ll get a second chance.”

And then her smile fades into a blank stare.

And then everything else fades, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some dialogue from S7 Ep 4 - Help, and S7 Ep 20 - Touched
> 
> Paracelsus is an epic poem by Robert Browning. It felt like one that Cassie would intimately know and would come to mind for her at that moment when she touched Buffy. Particularly this part:
> 
> "And in that act a prayer  
> For one more chance went up so earnest, so  
> Instinct with better light let in by death,  
> That life was blotted out — not so completely  
> But scattered wrecks enough of it remain,  
> Dim memories, as now, when once more seems  
> The goal in sight again."
> 
> Sorry, everyone. It's part of the challenge and thus the plot. Trust me, it wasn't any easier for me to write than it was for you to read it.


	23. Chapter 22

_October 18, 2000_

The last several days have all bled together. Heh… bled. No. No bled… bleeding. Bleeding is bad. I knew this was going to be a hell of a week, it always is, but I didn’t anticipate how much having my mother and Tara around would affect me. Hence the trying to drown myself in alcohol at the moment. 

I should have guessed it would, given how much of a funk I was in at my birthday party. Then again, I’m always in a funk on my birthday since Thomas died. No… not died. “Murdered! Fucking bastards!” I scream at no one in particular. Resulting in another bang on the adjacent wall behind my bed and a shout to keep it down. 

“Keep it down yourselves!” I yell back at them. “Not even the vamps in this town screw as much as you do! Have some respect for those of us not getting any, you bloody freaks!”

Freaks. Who am I kidding? The only freak here is me. 

I tried to stay out of most of it this week. Not just because of the shite that makes this week such a spectacular week already, but also because this week was particularly eventful this year in Sunnydale history. Soldier boy’s tampering, courtesy of the Initiative, threatens to make him go nuclear and listening to my mother going all crisis mode tracking him down was way more than I could stand. 

“Not this bloody week, anyway,” I mumble as I tip up the bottle of terrible American whiskey, wishing it worked better that it does.

What made it worse though was that I knew my dear old dad was going to pull a boneheaded move to get that blasted chip out of his head. I didn’t interfere with that either, not knowing how it might affect the timeline of either my parents or of Soldier boy leaving town eventually. 

At least I got to meet Harmony Kendall, vampire extraord… I can’t even finish that thought without laughing my arse off. But to be fair, she is one of the vamps that woke up as mostly just a demon charged version of themselves. At least, I sure as hell hope that’s her excuse. She’s about as inept as it gets. But, to her credit, she didn’t go snack on her parents or friends, and she goes on to live a mostly human-style life. I wouldn’t have killed her even if she wasn’t such a dozy cow. I would have tried to hook her up with one of the groups or families who try to stay under the radar. Still, seeing her going in and out of my father’s crypt is just gross. I wonder if he even sees what it is he’s doing with her? Pretty damn obvious if you think about it, given that she’s my mother’s classmate; not to mention small, blond, and built close enough to her to pass.

Then my mother runs into the monk lone-survivor and almost gets her arse handed to her by Glory. I knew this part of the mission was going to be tough, but damn... I don't know how we're supposed to beat a hell god before she manages to use my aunt to open the portal. I'm not even certain yet that I should. We knew that it was her resurrection that somehow allowed the first the chance to manifest in this dimension, we just don't know how it created that opportunity. Somehow that tipped the scales too far, even though there were already two slayers before she died the second time. If I could just figure that out... I've been racking my brain, combing over every diary, book, and archive, but I just can't figure it out. 

Then came Tara’s family visit and the fight with the Lei-ach demons. “Another bloody mess you couldn’t document correctly for shite!” I scoff at Giles, like he can actually hear me.

Damn, my bottle’s empty. Time for another. Good thing I got paid for guarding a couple of blood shipments this week. Replenished my stock in my little fridge as well. I get off the bed long enough to retrieve another bottle and head back to my little spot on it, leaning against the headboard, writing down all this tripe for posterity. Right… grandfather’s posterity.

“Fucking Giles!” I complain to no one. “There were four Lei-ach, you nit.” One of them damn near got away too. One pulled a runner and I had to drag his nasty arse back to The Magic Box to stash him with the others so we can bury them all at once. At least my father showed up just in the nick to take out one of them. I was wondering about that. Giles’s diary mentioned he just showed up, gave Tara a tap on the nose to prove she isn’t any sort of demon, and then buggers off. Seemed odd to me. As it turns out, he showed up earlier and fought the Lei-ach but no one knew about that because he was invisible to them at the time. Thank the gods I knew about Tara’s spell and deduced she had to have cast it at The Magic Box, and avoided getting caught in it! 

And that was the fucking day from hell anyway. October 16th. I did and didn’t want to be around my mother and Tara that day. I needed to because of the Lei-ach demons. Just to reassure myself. It was damn hard to sit at the Bronze and act all happy at Tara’s birthday party. Thank the gods for alcohol. Too bad the American’s don’t start wide distribution of some of their better brands of whiskey for another year or two. Both that piss at the Bronze and this crap in my hand are okay, but only dull things in mass quantities.

The loud pounding on my door gets my attention. I glance over at the clock, noting that it’s only a little after eleven. Who the fuck would be looking for me? My mother should be wrapping up her sweeps right about now and heading off to her mother’s house. I close my eyes and do my best to focus on my senses, even as I take another long belt from the bottle. No pulse. Definitely vampire. Not just any vampire, older one. My father in fact. Great. 

I climb out of my spot and toddle over to the door. I wrench it open just as he’s about to pound on it again. 

“What do you want, Spike?” I ask him with no small amount of annoyance. And then the guilt creeps in as I see his face go from anxious to startled to hurt to worried and then angry. Damn, his emotions could make a person dizzy. Wait, angry?

“Where the hell have you been?” He demands, looking not so subtly around me at the state of my room, and then back at me, his anger rolling off of him in waves. “Haven’t patrolled the last two nights and no one’s seen hide nor hair of you since the witch’s little family reunion.”

“Here,” I wave at my not so tidy room with the bottle in my hand, thinking that should seem pretty obvious. “Why?”

He gives me a scrutinizing look that is a little hard for me to read. I mean, why he’s giving me that look anyway. I can tell it’s scrutinizing.

“Look, not that I mind seeing you, but now’s not a good time. Come back in a couple of days and everything’ll be right as rain.” I tell him.

After a few more seconds, I see him relax a little, and his features soften. Ah, hell. He’s gonna want to talk some more. 

“What happened, pet?” He asks, all concerned. 

I laugh. A harsh laugh, with no mirth at all to it. 

“Hell week,” I answer him cryptically. I see him gearing up for another question and decide I really don’t want to stand at my door for however long this is going to take. “Come in, Spike,” I tell him as I step back and open the door wider. I take another draw from my bottle as I head back towards the bed, listening to him step over the threshold and close the door behind himself.

I close the journal I’ve been writing in, and set it on the nightstand next to the bed, before flopping down in my spot.

“Looks like you’ve been throwing yourself one hell of a party,” He says, looking around with a critical eye. “This a private party, or can anyone join?” 

“Sorry, where are my manners? Care for a drink?” I hold out the bottle in my hand.

He looks at it for a moment and then gives me a shrug and takes it, downing a respectable amount. 

“Easy there, bud!” I tell him, taking the bottle back. “Not a college frat house.”

“Could have fooled me,” He answers. Which makes me more than a little annoyed.

“You came here to tell me to clean my room? Don’t you think you’re taking this whole dad thing a little too far?” I regret the words as soon as they’re out of my mouth, and it’s even worse when I see the pain that flashes across his face before he buries it, and I can’t help but look away. 

“I’m gonna ignore that, 'cause I know you didn’t mean it,” He says.

“You’re right, I didn’t... sorry,” I say as I look earnestly back at him. “You’re the last person I’d ever want to hurt. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“So… mind telling me what all this is about then?” He asks, sitting on the side of the bed next to me. 

“I don’t know how much I can tell you,” I answer him honestly. 

He nods and seems to consider that for a while. 

“How ‘bout we start with the hell week thing? Seems like you didn’t mind mentioning that.”

I lean my head back and consider how much I should say. Or maybe the issue isn’t how much, but how I say it. 

“In my timeline, birthdays are huge. Humans are getting killed left and right, so any birthday is a big one, you know?”

He nods. “Sounds ‘bout right.”

“'Cept mine and Tara’s birthdays are different. Instead of 'Four Weddings and a Funeral', this week’s more like three funerals and a birthday.”

“Thought your birthday was in August?” He asks, the crease between his eyebrows deepening in confusion.

“It is,” I answer. “But someone’s death hangs over that day, too.” I don’t look at him as I say it. He’s so intuitive, I’m pretty sure I’d end up giving away just whose death happens to share my birthday.

“‘Member you sayin’ something about your mate that night.” He nods.

“Thomas,” I whisper, unsure if bringing up Thomas is better or worse. And that thought earns a rather large draw on the bottle. “We had the same birthday. That’s how I met him. We were all out celebrating at a club, and he asked me to dance. Found out he was there celebrating his birthday, too.”

“Knew him before he was turned, then?” He asks.

“Nope,” I shook my head and took another drink. “He’d been turned years before, but he kept celebrating his birthday. Said some seer told him he should keep doing it. That one day it would mean even more. And for a couple of years, our birthdays really did. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so... ” My voice breaks. I put what little steel I have left into my next words. “And then fucking October had to roll around.”

“I’m guessing one of those funerals you mentioned was his, then?” He asked.

I feel my heart rate quicken, and my face flush as my temper starts to take me again. I close my eyes and take another drag off the bottle as I try to calm myself down.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” He says dryly. “What happened?”

“Bastards killed him,” I grind out through my teeth. “Bellend of a watcher and a couple of potentials.” A bitter laugh escapes me. “Turns out old dogs use the same tricks. Why give up what works? Sent me and a potential out on a fake demon sighting while he and the other dusted him.”

He nods.

“What’s really ironic is, he wasn’t even killing. Strictly catch and release, and only what he needed. Still spoke to and took care of his family, kept 'em safe. Didn't matter, though. All that mattered to them was that he was a vampire in love with me. Apparently dhampir have a propensity for turning evil. And being in love with a vampire… and it was just me in love, of course, because vampires can’t love without a soul… that just meant I’d end up killing everyone in their sleep. So it was for my own good, you see. Keep me from turning evil.”

I look over to see how he’s taking my little tale of woe. I can’t help but laugh at the sheer dumbfounded horror on his face.

“I know,” I laugh. “Bunch of barmy berks full of shite, right?”

He takes the bottle from my hand. “Fucking Angelus,” He mumbles and then takes his own deep draw from it.

“Council believed that tripe long before Angelus,” I argued, taking the bottle back. “He just put the nail in the coffin for them.”

The next thing I know, he’s up and pacing. Wonder what that’s about. 

“What’s got your knickers in a twist?” I ask him. 

“Fucking Angelus!” He bites out, taking the bottle again and passing it back after a slug from it. 

Damn bottle’s getting low. 

“Covering his own arse is what he was doing!” He seethes. “Wasn’t he couldn’t love the slayer… his demon was right pissed that it did... wanted to make her pay for it. Think being caged all those years drove his demon off the deep end. Wasn’t playing with a full deck when he came struttin’ into the factory,” He rambles out as he cuts a short path back and forth in front of the bed. 

“Well, that… actually explains a lot,” I opine, thinking back on Giles’s diaries and the archives from that year. 

“Spike?” He continues pacing back and forth. Clearly, something’s on his mind. 

“Spike?” I say a little louder. Still nothing.

“Dad!” I nearly scream at him. He finally stops pacing. 

_“Dad?”_ I hear my next-door neighbor exclaim.

“Mind out of the gutter, freak!” I scream at him. 

_“Screw you, bitch!”_ He replies.

“You kidding? It takes you longer to piss than to shag! Your dates need an eight-second buzzer just to keep you motivated, you prick!” I shout back at him. 

_“Bitch,”_ I hear him mumble. 

I look back to see my father standing there with his eyes closed and his lips clamped tight, his whole body shaking slightly. It takes me a good thirty seconds to figure out he’s doing his damndest to stifle a laugh. 

“Yeah, yeah, regular laugh riot around here,” I roll my eyes. Not that he can see it. 

He manages to recover from his fit of laughter and steps back over to the side of the bed, sitting back down. He reaches up and pushes a stray lock of hair behind my ear, then cups my cheek with his hand. 

I can’t help but lean into his gentle caress. I’ve dreamed of this for most of my life, and now I finally have it. It doesn’t make up for all the years I didn’t, but I’ll take what I can get. Every single bit of it. 

“‘M sorry he’s gone, petal. Sounds like you two had something,” He says, his thumb gently brushing over my cheek. 

“We really did,” I whisper, feeling a tear slide out onto my cheek. He quickly brushes it away. 

“Can see why you’d be holed up in here. Anything else you want to talk about?” He asks. 

“I wish I could,” I tell him, bringing my own hand up to hold his in place as more tears slip away from me. I can’t tell him about the other two deaths that happened this horrible week over the years. That one day the mob took aunt Anyanka, much less that my mother was found dead in the new Sunnydale high library the morning of Tara’s birthday. 

“‘S ok,” His hand slides around to the back of my head and he pulls me forward. I sink into his shoulder as much as I can in this position and put my arms around him. “Don’t have to know the details to recognize what they mean to you.”

“I’m glad you’re here,” I tell him. I feel his muscles go rigid for a moment, and it occurs to me what that probably implies to him. 

He pushes my shoulder back, pushing me upright again and looks at me, his look is one of complete earnest. 

“Don’t…” He pauses and then sighs. “Don’t know what happened with us in your time... figure as a vampire I probably didn’t exactly make father of the year... but I’m here now. Whenever you need me. Understand?” 

I nod.

“I mean it, pet. You don’t need to do this alone. You’re hurtin’, or need help, or anythin’ at all… you know where to find me.”

“I do,” I nod. “Thank you.”

"‘Specially next time you decide to go on a bender, yeah? Surprised you’re not completely pissed…” He says looking around the room again.

His comment makes a tiny giggle bubble out. “Dhampir constitution. That and I can’t afford the good stuff.”

He gives me a look and I know what’s coming next.

“No! I don’t need money,” I tell him. “Been guarding the blood bank shipments for the hospital. Pays cash and blood, so I’m good.”

“Forget you need blood,” He sits back at that, tilting his head in that curious way he does. “Bet the hospital’s loving that little arrangement.”

“They are. And I don’t need much. I can go without it if I have to. But a small daily dose keeps me on top.” 

“Makes sense,” He nods. “Any other traits from your old man?” 

“Lots of other,” I smile at him. “Best of both worlds and then some.”

His eyebrows shoot up in appreciation. “You’ll have to show me,” He sounds impressed. Which oddly makes me feel a little chuffed myself. 

“Deal,” I smile. “But on one condition,” I add. 

“Seem’s you’re pretty fond of conditions, petal.” His voice is teasing. 

“Tell me about when you were human?”


	24. Chapter 23

_October 16, 2002_

“Buffy?” Tara’s voice sounds… desperate… as she answers my call. 

“No,” I answer with confusion. “It’s me, baby. I was calling to say, ‘happy birthday.’” 

“Oh,” She sounds so disappointed. “I-I forgot that’s t-today.”

Something isn’t right. In fact, I’m getting the feeling that something is very, very, wrong. Tara’s anxious and for some reason, and I don’t think it’s just because we’re still on shaky ground. Not to mention, I can barely hear her over the sound of the baby’s crying.

“Tara… what’s going on? Is something wrong?” 

“I-I… that is… w-we don’t know,” She answers. 

“Don’t know?” I ask, frowning to myself. “Tell you what, how about you fill me in and maybe I can help you figure out whatever it is?” I try to sound as chipper as I can. 

“I… Can you give me a second?” She asks. I hear her asking Dawn to take the baby into the living room. “It’s Willow,” She says to her.

“Does she know something? Can she tell us where Buffy is?” Dawn’s voice in the background sounds equally anxious. Why is Dawn still at home? She's going to be late for school if she doesn't get going.

“I d-don’t think so, Dawn. But l-I w-won’t know until I t-talk to her, ok, sweety?” Tara tells her.

Eventually, the sound of the baby fades away, and a few very long seconds later I hear Tara let out a sigh that sounds weary enough for a post-apocalyptic, “we managed to survive it,” release.

“Buffy’s missing.” Tara’s quiet voice says so much in those two words, it could have been a screamed monologue from a mountain top. 

“Missing, how?” I ask. “‘Got angry and ran out’ kind of missing, or ‘no one’s seen her in days’ kind of missing?” 

“W-went out to s-stop some sort of human sacrifice to r-raise a demon and never c-came home’ sort of missing.” She clarifies. 

“Maybe it just took longer than she thought and she’s on her way home right now?” I offer as brightly as I can despite the sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. 

“I hope so, Willow,” She sounds like she’s on the verge of crying. Which is beginning to put me on the verge of crying. 

“Have you called Giles?” I ask. “He’ll know what to do.”

“Y-yes. He’s on his way here," she says. “Xander and Anya are already looking, too.” There’s a long pause as I hear a sniffle from the other end of the line, and my own vision starts to cloud up. “Oh, god, Willow… what if she’s…”

“No! No, baby! We… we can’t think like that. She’s probably just injured and had to hide somewhere or something. It’ll be alright. You’ll see!” It has to be.

“Tara?” I hear Giles voice calling as he gets closer to wherever she is. “Is that Buffy?” He asks her, sounding out of breath and more urgent than I’ve heard him in what seems like forever. 

I don’t hear her say anything, but she must have shaken her head or something because I hear a strangled sound of panic. 

“Police? Have you called the police? Is that them?” He asks her.

“It’s Willow,” She answers him. 

“You called Willow?” He sounds confused.

“Sh-she called to wish me happy birthday,” She tells him. I don’t think I’ve ever heard someone say something like that with such sadness. 

“Your… Oh… Oh, dear… Tara… “ He trails off as I hear Tara try to stifle what sounds like a sob. 

“Willow?” He apparently took the phone from Tara. 

“It’s me,” I confirm. 

“Are you still with the coven?” He asks. 

“Yes, why wouldn’t I be?” I ask him.

“Can you put one of them on the phone please?” He asks, and I hear him giving Tara instructions to go help Dawn with the baby. “I’ll wait.”

I put my hand over the receiver and call one of the coven’s elders over, and explain that it’s Giles and sort of an emergency. With a look of confusion, she takes the phone from me. I watch as she listens, nodding, her look going from confusion to concern. 

“Of course, Rupert,” She says into the phone. “Right away. Give me a couple of minutes and I’ll call you back. What number?” She nods again, and then hangs up the phone and turns to me. 

“Willow, dear,” She smiles gently. “I don’t suppose you have anything of your friend Buffy’s with you?” She asks. 

I try to think of something, anything, and am getting more distressed by the moment.

“It’s ok, dear. We can work without it, it would just make things quicker…”

“Her sweater!” I practically shout. “I felt so bad about not giving it back to her that I… still haven’t given it back to her,” I tell her rather sheepishly. 

She gives me a critical look that says this is something we’ll be talking about later, but then sighs. “Go fetch it for me, won’t you?” 

I nod and run back to my room to dig through my things. Finally finding the sweater, I run back downstairs. As I enter the common room, I see several of the elders gathered in a circle and conversing gravely among themselves. 

“Willow!” One of them says. “Oh good!”

I wordlessly offer up the sweater. They take it and walk over to the silver inlaid pentacle on the floor and lay it in the center. Seconds later, they all join hands around the circle and begin quietly chanting. Before long, the sweater starts to take form… like, the shape of Buffy’s torso form. And then a sort of spectral outline follows that looks a lot like Buffy laying on the ground, a ghostly image of book stacks on two sides of her. As I watch, big red three-inch-long gashes appear all over the sweater and it starts… leaking… all over inside the circle. Then there’s a flash of light as the spectral outline lifts up and disappears… leaving only the sweater once again sitting in the circle, as clean and intact as it was the moment I pulled it from the drawer. 

“I’ll tell Rupert,” Someone says.

“Tell Rupert what?” I ask, starting to panic as my mind rejects what I just saw. 

“Agatha, why don’t you take Willow outside while I call Rupert?” 

“What was that?” I ask, feeling tears start to spill from my cheeks. 

“Willow,” Agatha comes over and pulls me into a hug. I don’t want a hug, I want to know what it was I saw. “I’m so sorry,” She says. “ll come help you pack.”

“Pack for what? Why am I packing?” I’m practically screaming at them now. 

“Rupert?” I hear Martha on the phone behind me.

“Her spirit has left this plane, Willow,” Agatha says.

“I’m so sorry, Rupert. She’s gone.” Martha’s gentle voice seems so soft and yet so loud in the silence of the room.

My mind is racing in horror as I listen to the rest of what she says, and I start connecting her words with what I saw. A library. Multiple wounds. Several hours. Send someone. 

“I’ll take her,” Agatha suddenly says. 

“Take me where?” I manage to numbly ask. 

“Home,” She answers. 

The next thing I know, they are all standing around me and Agatha and chanting again, and I feel a surge of magic swell around us. And then we’re standing in the middle of Buffy’s kitchen, next to Giles. His face has gone slack, and he’s staring at nothing, the phone in his hand as if he’s forgotten he's even holding it. 

“Oh, Rupert, I’m so sorry,” Agatha says, letting go of me with one hand to pull Giles into our group hug. 

“Willow?” I hear Dawn’s confused voice. “How did you…? Who is…?” 

She suddenly starts backing away from us all, shaking her head. 

“No! No, no, no! Buffy’s alive!” She says, still backing away. “I don’t know what whoever’s on the phone said, but my sister is alive!” 

“Dawn?” Tara walks into the dining room, gently bouncing Buffy’s baby on her shoulder. “What is… Willow?” She seems startled to see me. But it only takes a moment of looking at the rest of us to figure out what Dawn is so upset about.

“Oh…” she says, momentarily stunned. “Oh…” she whispers, once again saying so much more than just the word itself. 

“No! You’re wrong!” Dawn shouts at us all, “And I’m going to find her!” She turns and stomps her way to the front door. Everyone follows after her. She wrenches the front door open and jumps back with a little yelp of surprise.

“Hello, ma'am. My name is Officer Biggs. Is this the Summer’s residence?” I hear a man ask.

“No…” Dawn whispers. “No,” She shakes her head, and then once more, “NO!,” as crumples to the floor and lets out what I can only describe as a wail that sounds like it was torn from her very soul. 

Without a word, Agatha takes Ophelia from Tara, and then Tara is on the floor with Dawn, holding and rocking her. 

Giles steps around them to see the officer at the door. 

“I take it you all already know why I’m here?” I hear the man ask. 

“I don’t suppose it is to tell us that Buffy has been found alive and is being taken to the hospital?” 

“I wish it were, Mr…?” 

“Giles,” He answers. “Rupert Giles. Buffy’s uncle,” The lie rolls off his tongue so easily. 

“Are Ms. Summer’s parents around? We got a report this morning that she was missing.” 

“Buffy’s parents are no longer with us, sadly. The report came from us. She’d gone to the school last evening to retrieve something she’d left and failed to return.” 

He seems so calm… how can he seem so calm?

“She’s a teacher?”

“A counselor,” Giles tells him. 

The officer makes a noise of understanding. “Well, I’m sorry to inform you that she was found this morning, along with several students. You’re the third house I’ve been to this morning.”

“O-Oh?” Giles voice cracks as he utters the lone syllable. 

"Looks like she and another girl got caught in the middle of some sort of cult thing at the school’s library. Six other kids and an unidentified man all decked out in robes were also found. We’re still working to figure out exactly what happened. Here’s my card. If you’ll call the precinct a little later, we’ll need someone to come down to official claim the body.”

“Y-Yes, of course,” He whispers. “Thank you.”

“Sorry for your loss,” The office says, and then Giles nods and shuts the door. 

“I, uh, should call Xander and Anya,” He says.

“How can you be so calm?” I beg him. “Didn’t you care at all?”

He looks up at me, and I almost want to run from the pain I see on his face. He tries to say words to answer me, but they don’t come out. 

“Willow,” Agatha’s voice calls to me. “Rupert is hurting just as much as the rest of you.”

“I know that,” I tell her. “I just…” I don’t know what I was going to say after that. I don't know what to say. “I don’t…” 

“I know, dear,” She says, her arm pulling me in again. “Loss is always hard, but when it comes like this it’s even more so.”

“Agatha?” I hear Giles finally find his voice. 

“Yes, Rupert?” 

“I don’t suppose I could speak with you alone for a moment?” He asks. 

“Of course,” She says, and pushes Ophelia into my arms. “Remember, Willow, your friend isn’t really gone. There’s a part of her right here in your arms right now,” She says as she walks back towards the kitchen. 

This is the first time I’ve ever held Ophelia. She’s not as small as I remember her being. I guess babies really do grow fast. Agatha’s right, though. Her eyes are the same shape as Buffy’s. So is her nose and her little chin. But her eyes aren’t that blue-gray they were in the nursery those first couple of days. They are already a clear deep blue. Just like Dawn’s… and Spike’s. Her hair though, where Buffy and Dawn’s are straight, Ophelia’s is a riot of long dark loose ringlets. Her plump little rosy cheeks can’t hide those cheekbones though, and her mouth… that’s pure Spike.

For the first time, it really strikes me that Ophelia has lost everything, and doesn’t even know it. Her parents are gone. She’s an orphan now. And I’m responsible for taking one of them from her. If we hadn’t… she might still have a dad to take care of her, even though Buffy’s gone. 

“I’m sorry, Ophelia,” I whisper against her little head as the tears flow hot and fast. What more can I say?

“Best to do it while the echos of everything are still there and fresh,” Agatha says as she and Giles walk back into the foyer. “Willow, Mr. Giles and I are going to go…”

“I’m going with you,” I tell her, leaving no room for argument.

“I don’t think…” She begins.

“I’m going.” My resolve face is undeniable as I hand Ophelia to Dawn, who clings to her like a lifeline tossed to her at sea. Agatha seems to understand, and nods. 

Next thing I know, we’re standing in the library at the new Sunnydale High School, and I freeze, half expecting to be surrounded by bodies, but there are none. What’s left though, is just as bad. 

Agatha suddenly becomes wobbly on her feet and Giles reaches out to steady her. 

“Agatha?” He sounds worried. 

“Sorry,” She gives him a tight smile. “There’s just so much... “ She trails off, taking a few deep breaths. 

“Revelare,” Her voice is firm again. 

Suddenly, there’s the same spectral form on the floor in front of me, but there’s a second one next to her. A girl, maybe a little older than Dawn, with long blond hair, wounded and bleeding. It’s complete chaos as a dozen adult robed figures with very unique and deadly looking knives finish their slaughter of everyone in sight, including a large demon that then explodes into dust. Then all the robed guys run out, except for one on the floor near where the demon went down.

“No,” Agatha sways again. “It… it wasn’t supposed to be this way,” she says, frowning and looking confused. “Something… someone… is missing. Only one was fated here.” She turns and points at the girl next to Buffy. I see the girl smile as she reaches out and touches Buffy, saying something to her that none of us can hear.

“Instaurabo,” Agatha’s strong voice intones.

Instantly the scene rewinds and then freezes. There aren’t any robed guys, just a hand full of frightened kids standing around staring as the giant demon has Buffy pinned under its massive foot. But that isn’t what takes everyone’s breath away. It’s the specter behind the demon that wrenches an agonizing sound from Giles and has me on my knees in a mirror of Dawn’s earlier pose. 

Standing behind the demon, holding a torch to it with a fiercely determined look, is the unmistakable form of the last person I ever thought I would see today. Or ever again.

Spike.

“Ante,” Agatha commands. 

The scene goes forward, the demon shies away from the flame of the torch, freeing Buffy. Spike hands the torch to Buffy and then pulls the mystery girl to safety, as Buffy sets the demon aflame. In a matter of seconds, all of the kids are safe, with only one injury, and Buffy is walking out of the library with the girl.

“Ligamen Quaesitum,” Agatha’s command rings out, and suddenly everything disappears except for one lone spectral image. 

Standing in front of all of us, is once again the image of the Spike, determined, resolute, in a fighting stance, armed with a flaming torch. 

The missing piece that changed everything. 

“Quo Factum,” Agatha’s final command is resolute. 

And standing before us now is an equally determined and resolute Spike, standing tall despite the shackles on his wrists, his eyes staring ahead, sad and distant. And standing next to him is Gile’s, a sword frozen in mid-swing. And on the other side of him, I’m standing with a book in one hand, the other hand raised in the air, commanding a flaming stake that's frozen in mid air in front of his chest. 

“Oh, Rupert… what have you done?” Agatha whispers as Giles drops hard to the ground beside me.

“Oh god... we did it…” I whisper. “We killed them both.”

“Yes,” Agatha replies with resignation. “And I fear you’ve doomed us all.”


	25. Chapter 24

_November 21, 2000_

I’d hoped that I’d get to hear at least some of my father’s untold history when he and my mother discussed how he killed the two slayers. Giles accounting of the discussion is second hand and not exactly helpful. Essentially he only wrote that Spike confirmed what they already knew and affirmed to my mother that he’d always been a low-class ruffian. I used the same cloaking spell I used when grandfather was here and didn’t get caught this time. Though to be fair, I probably wouldn’t have gotten caught then except that I failed to account for the spell being his spell, and of course he would pick up on it.

The only problem is, I didn’t get a lot more information that night. Well, I did, but not the kind I was looking for. He talked a lot about other people back then, like Drusilla, Angelus, and Darla. He spoke of the profound experience of getting turned. He talked about the joy of fighting and how it can make you feel so alive. But he didn’t really talk a lot about himself. Of course, that isn’t what she asked him, she asked how he won; but he seemed to talk about pretty much everything but himself, with only a couple of major exceptions.

Of course, I could have told her much of the same things about how it isn’t a specific move or a better opponent, or having an off day, it’s about the mind. Listening to her as she patrols, I wouldn’t have thought she was moving towards that frame of mind, but clearly, she is. He’s not wrong about that either, they all do eventually have that wish whether they acknowledge it or not. Of course, the last decade or so, not many of them live long enough to get a death wish. 

And then he practically gave me a heart attack that night, tearing off with that shotgun. I’d thought he’d given up that night after her scathing putdown, and on that I have to say, damn! But on the way back to my motel I spotted him stalking, and there really isn’t any other word for it, through the night with that giant shotgun in his hand. I knew he wouldn’t go through with it. I mean, I’m alive so obviously, he doesn’t, but looking at his face as he marched to her house I was really damn worried. Gile’s diaries don’t mention anything about him threatening her with a shotgun that night or any other night. So when he cocked the handle on it, I was preparing to drop my cloak and tackle his idiot self.

But then they both surprised me. Almost as soon as he saw she was crying he softened and dropped the weapon to his side. And she retreated off into somewhere in her head for a bit, but she didn’t shrug him off. After a few minutes, she even started talking. He just sat there listening, taking everything in like he’d been her best mate for years. And it suddenly made me feel like I was about eight years old as I positioned myself on the grass in front of them and just watched and listened. 

Seeing his reaction to her words about her mother, it makes me wonder about the history there between him and his own mother. It seems like grandma Joyce’s sickness stirred something pretty deep inside and I don’t think it was all just for my mother. But when I asked, he buttoned up as tight as he could get.

In fact, it’s been over a month since I first asked my father to tell me about when he was a human and he’s been as aggravatingly tight-lipped as a stubborn damn vampire can be. It seems like the more I press, the more determined he is not to tell me. But I’m not exactly a pushover, either. I will get it out of him one way or another.

“Wurdest du jemals von Deutschen gefangen genommen?” (Have you ever been captured by the Germans?) The question rolls off my tongue, with just a hint of intentional mispronunciation. I know he was because grandfather told me he’d set him up to be caught in exchange for the Germans releasing the Roma from his protectorate into his custody. 

“Don’t speak German,” He asserts a little too quickly. “Thought we were playing card games tonight, not twenty questions?” 

But something in his eyes tells me he knows bloody well that I asked if the Germans ever captured him.

“Pullum stercore,” (Chicken shite) I level the insult at him. 

“Already told you I know just enough Latin to get me in trouble,” He says, narrowing his eyes in the clear beginnings of anger. “Keep it up and we’ll see if this chip in my head decides you’re more vampire than human.”

I do love a good challenge.

“Ignavum nominare,” I smile at him, seeing the instant recognition and anger at being called a coward.

“How ‘bout you take a swing instead of running your mouth and we’ll see about that,” He’s getting pretty angry now.

“Nǐ hé nǐ shā sǐ de zhōngguó wǔshì nǚrén liáole ma?" (Did you chat with the Chinese warrior woman you killed?)

“Christ!” He’s practically seething. “Your Chinese is worse than your German!” He rolls his eyes at me. “It's Xīxuèguǐ shāshǒu.” (Vampire killer.) "Not that I speak Chinese," He smoothly tries to cover.

“True, but warrior woman sounds better to me.” I’m sure my eyes are gleaming brightly at having caught him, even if he hasn’t figured it out yet. “Besides, not all of us got to go to Oxford.”

“Oxford?” He snorts. “Not on your life! Went to Tri…” He suddenly clamps his mouth closed, realizing his slip.

“‘Tri…?” I mimic, and my eyebrows suddenly shoot up about a mile. “As in Trinity College, Cambridge?”

The almost comic widening of his eyes, followed by his quick mask of indifference tells me all I need to know.

“Ha!” I shout at him. “I knew it!” I’m now pointing at him and dancing around in my happy little way. 

“Bloody hell,” He tosses his hands up before settling them on his hips and giving me a rueful glare. “Brat.”

“You went to Trinity? In the 1700’s?” I ask, my eyebrows shooting up yet again in appreciation. 

“Not quite that old.” One corner of his mouth lifts in amusement and I can tell his anger is starting to fade. 

“So, how old are you, exactly?” I suddenly stop my mirth fueled dance to ask him. “I’ve heard you were turned anywhere from the 1760s to 1870s, but no one ever knew for sure.”

His head dips to the side as he takes on a contemplative look that fades into a half-second of sadness before he looks away.

“Damn it,” I mumble, realizing my mistake. 

“Take it I wasn’t around much, then?” He asks. 

“Spike…” 

“‘S ok, don’t tell me. Don’t rightly think I want to know from the sounds of it,” He mumbles as he heads towards his little fridge in the corner and ducks his head inside. “‘M sure your mum tossed me right and proper for a good reason.”

“She didn’t toss you out, you twit, she tried to save…” My mind finally catches up with my mouth, and I clamp my lips shut. 

He suddenly stands up ramrod straight, his muscles going rigid at the implications of what I’ve said, and I hold my breath waiting to see where he’s going to take this little conversation now. For long, long, long moments, or at least they seemed that way, he doesn’t seem to respond at all. 

“She…” His voice is cracking as he turns to stare at me. His look is a mixture of awe and confusion, and just a little bit of trepidation if his next whispered words are any indication. “She tried to… save… me?” 

Now I’ve gone and done it. Except I don’t know exactly what he’s asking. Is he asking if she tried to save him because she was in love with him, or is he asking me to confirm he died? Or is he asking why she needed to save him?

“Look,” I say with a heavy sigh. “I’m not going to lie to you. You guys took a long and bumpy road to get there, but you really had something special. She almost died trying to save you, and I’m pretty sure it haunted her the rest of her life.”

“Would never want that for her,” He answers quietly, shutting the refrigerator door.

“I know. And so did she. But being the one left behind, even unintentionally, doesn’t always lend itself to that.”

“We still talking about me and Buffy?” He asks, giving me a curious eye. 

“Let’s just say there are lots and lots of parallels,” I give him my best affected smile. “So… Trinity? As in Cambridge?”

He rolls his eyes at me. My parents are actually both pretty skilled in that area. Must be where I get it from. 

“Ok, you got me, petal. Yes, Trinity College, Cambridge. Was a family thing. Not like I had a choice.” He waves one hand dismissively as if it was nothing at all.

“Right!” I laugh. “Don’t lie, you know you loved it.”

“What?” He looks offended. A little too offended if you ask me. “Not a bleeding chance! Couldn’t wait to get out of there.”

“Mmhhh.” I nod, sending him a conspiratorial look.

“Cheeky little…”

“So again I ask… how old are you? As in, what year were you turned, and how old were you at the time?”

He gives me an annoyed look, and I can tell he’s trying to figure out if he can stall me long enough to get me to drop it. Which makes me wonder why he’s so desperate to hide it. And that gives me another thought.

“You do know that nothing you say will make me love you any less, right? In fact, I don’t think there’s a scenario where I wouldn’t love you more,” I tell him. I’m beginning the think that he’s insecure about who he was, which poses an interesting conundrum. 

“Yeah, well, wouldn’t be so quick to judge,” He flops down in his little armchair. 

After a few seconds of watching the wheels in his head turn, he finally looks up at me and says, “Maybe I was Jack the Ripper, what then pet?” 

“I’d ask for your taped confession and make a mint on the book,” I grin at him. “Except we know the Ripper wasn’t you because you and the rest of The Whirlwind were traveling the continent at the time.”

“'S just a short hop across, luv.” He seems amused. 

“I know. Been there, done that.” I tell him.

“So at least you weren’t tied to the bloody Hellmouth, then?” He asks, seeming relieved. 

“No,” I answer him truthfully. “We were sort of all over the place for a while but ended up in London when I was still young. The council sent me all over the place later… anywhere I was needed.”

“A traveling slayer?” He asks, seeming surprised.

“More or less,” I shrug. 

“And whose idea was it to send you back here? And how’s it you’re supposed to get back? Convince the witches to pop you back down the rabbit hole?”

“That would be some of those things I can’t tell you. But… if everything works out the way it should, then maybe someday I can tell you!” I try to seem perky about the prospect. I’m hoping he doesn’t pick up on the fact that I still haven’t got a clue how things are supposed to work out. Or how I’m going to get back. Or if I can even get back.

He nods, almost sagely. 

“Seen Buffy, lately? How’s she doing with her mum?” He feigns non-concern.

“Not too bad. Could definitely be worse,” I answer him. And it will be worse. So much worse. “But her and Dawn are coping. I’ve been covering patrol, but things are pretty quiet on the demon front. Not a lot of fledges lately.”

“You still givin’ all of ‘em the once over when they rise?” He asks, seeming oddly perturbed at the idea. 

“Of course,” I answer. “Everyone deserves a chance.”

“They’re vampires, luv, not a bunch of angsty teenagers. You should be staking them on sight.” He urges.

“What about Harmony?” I ask.

“Especially Harmony!” He looks me dead in the eyes and I can’t help but laugh.

“I know she’s annoying, but she’s mostly harmless. I could hook her up with one of the local low-key families; get her out of your hair if you want. Or maybe the suck house on 9th? She strikes me as the type who needs a group, a leader to point her in some direction.”

Now he’s looking at me like I’ve lost my mind.

“What?” I ask him. I don’t think I’ve said anything weird or crazy.

“You know about those?” He asks, looking pretty incredulous.

“Well, yeah, why wouldn’t I?” Now I’m looking at him like he’s lost his mind. “Where do you think I park the fledges who pass my little test? It’s not like I follow them home and have some twisted, ‘your son is a teenage vamp,’ talk and then run off. I’m not stupid.”

“Didn’t really think about it, honestly.” He says, looking troubled. I laugh, but not too much.

“Yeah, well, more than a few of Sunnydale’s finest citizens do think about those places. But that’s neither here, nor there. They try to stay off the radar and I’m happy to oblige them.”

“An’ how’s Buffy feel about that?” He asks, pointedly.

“Honestly, she doesn’t know about them. Giles never told her. Just one of the many things he never told her. I’m working on fixing that, but she’s a little busy right now.”

“So, the slayers mum’s feeling better?” He asks.

“A bit,” I hedge, hopping back up on the sarcophagus. “But she’s tough. Trying to put on a brave face for Buffy and Dawn.”

“She’s a hell of a woman,” He says with no small amount of apparent admiration. 

“They all are,” I smile. “Dawn’s young right now, but she’s definitely a Summers.”

“That she is,” He smiles. “Not unlike you,” He gently teases. “You favor her a bit," He says, once again obviously studying my features. After a few seconds he seems to frown in confusion, but then shakes it off. 

“Wait a minute! You dodgy twerp, you still haven’t told me how old you are! When were you turned, and how old were you?” I ask. He almost had me forgetting my question.

“Not gonna let that one go, are you?” He asks, looking frustrated, but resigned. 

“Nope!” I pop the ‘p’ in the word cheerfully.

“Fine… just don’t go telling Buffy. Or anyone else for that matter!” He says. 

I cross my heart and nod.

“Was 27 when Dru turned me. Was 1880.”

“So, you’re 147,” I say thoughtfully. “Yup, you really were robbing the cradle,” I smile at him, recalling his words on the balcony on my birthday. “And you went to Trinity in the 1800s, because it was a family tradition.”

He’s avoiding looking at me now.

“Oh well, guess I broke that tradition. Attended UCL. Of course, maybe if you’d ever told anyone your real name I might have gone to Trinity. I guess I still could.”

“Not gonna happen,” He scoffs. 

“Why? What are you afraid I’ll find out?” I ask him, curious.

“Nothing… not much of anything to find out. Always been like this,” He answers a little too quickly. “What you see is what you get, luv.”

“Yeah, because lower-class dockworkers in the 1800’s were just lining up to get into Trinity,” I roll my eyes at him. “I heard your accent slip when you said 'vampire killer.' My guess is this,” I indicate everything about him, “Is an act. Or started that way, anyway. I think you’ve probably evolved bit by bit until this is just as much a part of you as the person you were, if not more. But I’m betting that underneath it all, is a slightly insecure twenty-seven-year-old softy.”

“Bite your tongue!” He jumps up. Well, that’s all sorts of interesting. 

I slide off the sarcophagus and walk right up to him. I put my hand on his cheek as I choose my words carefully. 

“No... You know, it’s ok to not be tough all the time,” I tell him. “I mean, who doesn’t love the whole, ‘bad boy with a heart of gold’ thing?”

He backs up a step and the line of his jaw hardens. “No gold in here, pet. Black and dead as the night. Best you remember that instead of fillin’ your head with all that Anne Rice shit.”

“See, there you go,” I set my hands on my hips in frustration. “Why do you do that?”

“Do what? Give a reality check?” He asks. “I’m a vampire! An evil, soulless, vampire. Just because me and your mum had a bit of poke and prod an’ she popped you out nine months later…”

I hear the hard crack from my hand across his face before I even realize I’ve closed the gap and am standing in front of him. He turns his head back to me with fire blazing in those blue crystalline eyes of his, the red and angry handprint already rising on his cheek. 

“She nearly gave her life and mine trying to save you. Two months later, when they found her the morning after she was killed trying to save a bunch of worthless prats, she was still clutching the last letter you wrote for her. It wasn’t even readable anymore from all the tears she’d cried on it, but she still had it because it meant that much to her. So don’t you dare insult her memory or her sacrifice or what it was that you two had.” 

Yeah, my mouth and temper outrun my brain sometimes. And right now I’m seeing red all over. That is until I see the transformation. Seeing his face practically drain as he’s completely overcome with sheer disbelieving awe, I try to replay what I’ve just said in my head. 

Oh. Bloody. Hell. 

I look up to notice he’s sitting in that ugly arse chair, his head in his hands and elbows on propped on his knees.

Should I just go? Should I say something? I decide to go over to him and see if I can do some damage control. I kneel down in front of him, placing my left hand on his knee to remind him that I’m here. Almost as soon as I touch him, he shakes his head back and forth a couple of times. Is he telling me to go? To leave him alone?

“Shouldn’t have…” He shakes his head again without looking up. 

“There’s a lot of shouldn’t haves to go around,” I answer. 

“She…” He looks up at me, deep questioning on his face. “She reallly…?” He doesn’t finish his question, but he doesn’t have to. 

For a moment I internally debate telling him the truth, but at this point, I don’t see how I can not tell him. 

“Yes, you both ‘really’.” I tell him. “But it wasn’t easy. There was a lot… and I do mean a lot… of shite you both had to go through to get there. I can’t change that, and I don’t think I would if I could. It is probably what made you two what you were. But it’s going to be hard. Really hard. But isn’t that what makes it all worth it?”

He gives me a sad, tight, little smile. “How’d you get to be so wise, petal?” 

“I suspect I inherited it from a closet intellectual and a cute little field general with an intellectual capacity that was tragically undereducated.” 

His smile gets a marginally bigger as he sits back in his chair, and then he seems to retreat to somewhere inside his head. I take that as my cue to leave. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, ok?” I say, heading towards the door, grabbing my jacket off the sarcophagus. 

He nods absentmindedly. Somehow I doubt he’s going to do much of anything the next few hours except try to unravel what I said. 

Besides, if memory serves, there should be a meteor arriving in a few hours with a killer snot monster hidden inside, and who can pass up that sort of fun? Heck, I might even be able to save a few people who’ll be right as rain once my mother kills Glory.

Once we figure out how to that is.


	26. Chapter 25

_December 24, 2002_

Dear Diary,

It’s almost Christmas, but it doesn’t feel like it. Not that everyone isn’t trying. In fact, everyone is pretty much with the crazy-making with trying to make this the “best Christmas ever” since Buffy died. Like all those gifts and decorations are going to make it seem like my sister isn’t dead and buried again. Like it’s going to mean anything to Willa. She doesn’t even understand Christmas, I don’t think. I mean, how much does a four-month-old baby understand anyway? 

And don’t even get me started on the whole part about how everyone keeps arguing, just not around me. Like they think I can’t hear them arguing downstairs? Or upstairs? Or outside? I kind of hate them all right now. Well, except for Tara. And Xander. And Anya. But that’s it, everyone else I hate. Why couldn’t that stupid vengeance demon school counselor have come now instead of last year? I guess letting them think they can make up for killing Buffy and Spike with lots of presents is as much vengeance as I can get now.

At least Buffy left Tara in charge. Giles wasn’t exactly happy about that, but he can’t do anything about it. And it beats me having to go live with dad. He sent a Christmas card this year, surprisingly, and a gift card. I don’t think he knows about Willa, though. Which is good, I mean, as much as he wigged at the idea of Buffy being a slayer, imagine what he’d do if he knew he had a half-vampire, half-slayer, granddaughter? 

I’m still kind of mad at Buffy, though. She may have made Tara our guardians, but she made Giles the backup and had some sort of weird stipulation thing where both Tara and Giles have to agree about any training, or magic, and some trust fund stuff. I didn’t really understand a lot of it, with all the legal mumbo jumbo. But, what if Tara had decided she didn’t want to have a kid sister and a vampire baby? I know she said Buffy made sure before she made it that way, but what if she changed her mind? What if she dies? This thing with The First Evil is starting to look pretty scary and end of the worldy.

They managed to spring Faith out of prison somehow, and let me just say that having her around is totally awkward! She tried to talk to me about Buffy once and say how sorry she was, but I don’t think Faith really knows how to have that sort of talk. Then again, does anyone? She was all stoic and, “Don’t know if you remember, but I lost my mom about your age. You’ve had a tough break, kid, but you’ll come through. You always were a persistent little brat. Just know I’m here if you ever want to talk. I’m not really good at that sort of thing, but… well, you know. Just keep it in mind.” I guess that’s about as good as it gets with her.

And then there’s Mr. Broody pants, Angel. He spends all week in L.A. working for that evil law firm, and then spends the weekend up here, playing with Willa and talking to Giles and Faith about this whole thing with The First. He keeps trying to teach Willa how to growl, but all she does is giggle, which by the way is about the cutest sound ever. And I could swear she knows the second he drives up because she gets super quiet and starts looking around. 

Xander and Anya have been good with her, too. Anya’s oddly a lot more motherly that I thought she’d ever be. I’m not sure how much of her talk about capitalism Willa can understand, but who knows? May she understands everything we’re saying. Note to self, probably shouldn’t say in front of Willa anymore how much I hate Giles and Willow.

Speaking of, Willow is trying way too hard. If she brings one more thing to put under the Christmas tree or decides there’s one more thing we have to do for Willa’s first Christmas, I’m going to claw my eyeballs out, and tear my ears off so I don’t have to see or listen to any more of her apologies, and tears, or hear about how sorry she is. This is literally a hundred times worse than when she did that whole spell to make her will be done three years ago. 

Giles is trying to be everything to everyone, and not really doing well at any of it. He gave me this whole big speech about making sure that me and Willa are taken care of and will never want for anything, but every time I look at him all I see is the person responsible for the deaths of the two people who cared most about me. He still hasn’t told me what happened to Buffy. I mean, I already know because Willow told Tara and then Tara told me. If he won’t even tell me the truth, then how can I even trust him?

At least I know Tara will be honest. And I think she understands a little since her mother died when she was a kid. It’s kind of weird to think that her and Faith were both around my age when their moms died, but they are so different and handle things very differently. Still, both are honest with me no matter what, and neither one is really trying all the time to make me feel better, so there is that. 

There is a new couple of girls living with us now. Giles calls them “Potentials.” Supposedly they are girls who could become slayers at some time in the future after Faith dies that is. He brought them here so Faith can protect them since The First is supposedly trying to kill them all. I’ve heard them talking about it. He and Anya said that somehow Buffy’d resurrection is responsible for creating some sort of opportunity for The First to try and take over the world. They haven’t really been clear on how just that it somehow had to do with her coming back. Though, I don’t think I understand how that can be right. I mean, if it was Buffy coming back that did it, then wouldn’t her death have fixed it? 

They’re planning to send me and Willa away. Tara says that right now it’s just a thought. That they want to keep me and Willa safe whenever this big thing with The First happens. She said she won’t make me do anything I don’t want to, and that I can stay and help; but that having Willa here probably won’t be a good idea since we don’t know what’ll happen.

Willa’s getting so big. She changing almost every day, too. Sometimes, it seems like she’s a normal baby and then she does something, like the whole Angel thing, and it’s clear that she’s definitely not a normal baby. She’s already acting like she’s going to crawl soon. She’s up on her hands and knees and sort of does this rocking back and forth thing. She already has to be the world’s fastest rolling baby. I can only imagine what she’s going to be like when she can actually crawl.

Sometimes I think Anya’s right and she can understand what we’re saying, but that can’t be right. Can it? Giles says no one really knows. Angel says it wouldn’t surprise him. I catch him staring at her sometimes. He’ll stare at Willa for a while, and then smile and shake his head. I wonder if she’s reminding him of Buffy or Spike? It’s hard for even me to say on any given day who she looks more like. 

Tara seems tired. I can’t even imagine what this is like for her. It’s like she’s suddenly the mother of all of us. I didn’t realize how much Buffy was like that to everyone. I always saw her and Willow and Xander as the same, you know? Friends, of the same level. But now that I think about it, she really was like everyone’s protector, but also sort of our guide. I thought that was Giles, and I guess it really was, but Buffy, too. Anyway, Tara’s still trying to keep Willow from doing things she shouldn’t, plus trying to be a big sister to me, and a mom to Willa, and I can tell it’s hard for her. She’s also teaching me some basic stuff. I’ve learned how to do a cloaking spell and a glamour. She says we all need to know how to hide what Willa is, and the glamour is so we won’t look like ourselves if we feel like someone is following us. 

I didn’t realize how dangerous it was going to be having a half-vampire baby around. Angel says every demon will want to hunt her. Giles says every evil group of humans will want to use her, and some of the good ones will want to find her to keep that from happening. She’s just a little baby, how is she supposed to used for evil? Anya says that everyone is just afraid because she is way more powerful than anything is ever supposed to be, and they want that power for themselves. That makes more sense than her being a sort of evil baby, even if she is half-vampire. 

Well, the clock just hit midnight, so I guess it’s really Christmas now. Do you look in on us, Buffy? Are you back in heaven again? Are you finally happy again and at peace? Is Spike there with you? I guess probably not. But what about William? Is he there? I wonder if he knows about Willa? (Just trying to figure out that whole thing sort of makes my brain hurt.) Well, wherever you guys are, Merry Christmas Buffy and Spike. We miss you. Your daughter is really pretty and sort of amazing. I’m sure you happy wherever you are, and I know I shouldn’t, but still… I wish you were here instead. Give our love to mom. 

Dawn


	27. Chapter 26

_December 19, 2000_

“Did you take Buffy to the suck house on Industrial?” I practically scream as I storm into my father’s crypt, the door clanging loudly against the wall. I was out doing patrol when George tracks me down and starts seething about how Spike showed up with “the other slayer” and now he’s had to move his whole operation to another place just to keep everyone safe. He also said it was a good thing he did since Buffy showed up an hour later and burned the place down. To say I'm not happy would be an understatement. What was he trying to prove, and was it to me or to my mother?

My father just grunts in my direction, and I spot him sitting in that ratty little chair of his facing the telly, a mostly empty bottle of whatever dangling precariously from one hand like he’s well on his way to either drunk or asleep as some brain rot plays on the small screen. 

“What the hell were you thinking?” I challenge him. “I had to do some major damage control! George and his crew were talking about trying to take out Buffy tonight! You're lucky he isn't after you, too! Is that your idea of protecting her?” I ask, coming to a stop behind him.

“Not exactly in the mood for conversation just now, petal,” He says, his voice sounding tighter than usual. “Fraid I’ll have to take a rain check. ‘Sides, probably better you help out the slayer tonight.”

That gives me pause. He’s not usually one to try and send me packing. In fact, he’s usually more than happy to chat. As a matter of fact, he’s never once told me, “not now,” or to go find Buffy. 

“Spike?”

“Mean it, pet. Not in the mood.” He answers tersely.

“Since when?” I ask.

My question is only met with a sigh of unmistakable exasperation. 

“Why are you trying to get rid of me? What’re you hiding?” 

“Do you ever do anything you're told? Or the way you’re supposed to?” He asks me, clearly frustrated. 

“Of course not!” I smile as I walk around to stand in between him and the television. “Have you met you? Or Buffy, for that matter?” 

The smile is quickly wiped off my face as I spot the unmistakable remains of a giant hole in the middle of his chest, old dried blood crusted on his shirt around the hole, with an angry red pucker of mostly closed skin in the middle. Someone tried to stake him. Scratch that, someone did stake him. 

“‘M fine, pet.” He grabs my hands from their inspection of the wound and pushes them away. 

“Who did this?” I demand, standing up. “Was it Buffy?” I ask. “Not that it matters, I’ll still kick her arse if it was.”

“Don’t need your protecting!” His answer is short. Very short. He’s angry. Though I’m not sure if he’s angry at whoever staked him, or if he’s angry that I’m seeing it. I’m beginning to suspect the latter.

“Is this more of your machismo crap?” I quickly ask him. “When are you gonna figure out that I love all of you? Not just Spike the ultimate evil vampire tough guy, but the person he’s protecting?”

He doesn’t answer, just takes another drink. 

“Do you only love the vampire half of me? The tough, gruff, angry bitch?” I see him flinch, and I know I’ve got his attention. Not that there was a doubt. “Or is the slayer part not worth your love too? What about the sentimental little girl still mourning the people she loved and trying to save them, is she not worth it, either?”

“Petal,” he starts but I cut him off, which makes him angry. It usually does.

“Am I only worthy if you can see how much arse I can kick?” I can tell he’s getting angrier. “I guess you just love me because I look like her, or maybe it’s my tracking skills?” 

“Your tracking isn’t half what you think it is or you won’t be asking who did this!” He practically shouts at me.

And he’s right, I realize, stepping back with a confused look on my face I’m sure. Well, he’s not right about my tracking but he is right about the fact that I shouldn’t have had to ask. I let my anger carry me in and then let my worry take hold and ignored everything else. Stupid move.

I close my eyes and refocus my senses. All of the information I need is right here just waiting for me to find it. I extend my senses out and take a deep breath, pulling in as much information as I can possibly gather. 

My eyes pop open in sudden, clear, angry, immediate realization. Soldier boy did this. And hung around a while either before or after, or both. And left roughly thirty minutes ago. Red hot anger has me moving for the door. I’ve held back, knowing what he supposedly meant to my mother, but no longer. This one’s mine now. 

“Slayer?” My father is suddenly blocking the door. 

“Get out of my way,” I ask him as nicely as I can force the words out.

“Don’t go doing anything dumb on my account, yeah?” He says, somewhat placating. “Don’t need you going out there defending my honor and whatnot.” 

I can’t even dignify that with an answer. It’s about way more than honor at this point. 

“Mean it, slayer.” He says, a slight warning edge to his voice. 

“This is about him, not you,” I tell him. “You have no idea what he’s done.”

“Don’t really care, either,” He counters. “One thing I do know is that look in your eyes. He’s not worth it.”

“That’s the problem,” I answer. 

“And how you plan to explain it to Buffy?” He asks. 

Damn. He’s right. If I go off half-cocked right now, how exactly do I explain how Soldier boy ends up dead instead of off to some secret mission with the Initiative? I can feel my anger deflating, but not receding. Soldier boy and I will have a date later tonight, just not right now.

“What happened?” I ask my father and notice him visibly relax, and let out a breath.

“Caught him wandering into one of your little pet projects, stinking of desperation and desire,” He says, heading back for the chair and plopping down in it with a frustrated sound. “Figured the slayer ought to know what her boy toy’s been up to.”

“Of course you did,” I groan. “You didn’t think she’d figure it out on her own? It’s kind of obvious when he’s wearing turtle necks on hot days.”

“You knew?” He asks, looking at me all shocked. 

“Of course! See above, re: wearing turtlenecks on hot days! Seemed pretty obvious.” Well, it had. 

He just sort of “huh’s” me, like he hadn’t really thought about it much.

“Look, I gotta go,” I tell him. “Just, try not to do anything too impulsive, ok? I really should go make sure George doesn’t change his mind and try to jump Buffy. Particularly if she’s emotionally hurt and not paying a lot of attention.”

“You do that, slayer. ‘M fine.”

“Try not to get staked again!” I add over my shoulder as I open the door. “I know you can’t die that way but I still almost had a heart attack!”

I hear his soft laugh as he mumbles out a confirmation, then something else I wasn't paying attention to as I set my sights on finding my mother. Is this the night that she and Soldier Boy finally implode? The night they have an undisclosed argument and he takes off in the night for some Initiative mission and starts rebuilding the new and improved Initiative that takes out all the demons they come across, good or bad, while The First and his legions take out the humans and any remaining demons that escape the Initiative’s grasp? I’m betting it is. Which means I don’t have much time. 

I take to the rooftops to catch up as quickly as I can, managing to find her scent pretty quickly not far from The Magic Box and following it through downtown in the direction of Shady Acres. However, I’m not the only one that found her. George and a handful from his nest are ahead of me and picking a fight. I don’t really have much choice here as I jump down and land between her and George just as he’s about to try and pounce. 

“Damn it, George! Why didn’t you listen to me?” I’m angry at him. He’s about to die and it’s all his own fault for being a twat. And he’s going to take a bunch of innocent people with him.

“You promised you’d keep her off our backs, slayer! You failed to deliver, so I’m taking things into my own hands,” he answers. 

“So what, you thought getting everyone dusted was easier than moving shop? Maybe I should let her kick your arse and find someone with more brains than balls to take over your nest and protect the others!”

“I was going to let you live, slayer, on account of you giving some of us a chance. But now, neither one of you are going to be a problem for any of us ever again,” George grins and lunges. Stupid move George.

It’s over before it even began. I take out George, then hang back and let Buffy take out the rest. I thought she was actually going to let the one girl go, but at the last second she took her out with a spear to the heart from the back. Ah… must be… yes, smells right. 

“Let me guess? That’s the one you caught Soldier Boy using?” 

She turns on me, eyes flashing in anger. Definitely hit a nerve. 

“Hey!” Xander’s voice interrupts whatever she was going to say to me. “Hope, could you, uh, give me and Buffy a minute or two?” 

I give him a shrewd look. I’m not sure what he’s up to, but stepping away won’t hurt. Besides, none of them know I have enhanced hearing. I nod and head off to the end of the alley.

“So, how'd that work out for ya? Make you feel better?” He asks her.

“What are you doing here?” 

Ouch, she’s not happy to see him.

“I thought you might need to talk. Then I saw the skirmish happen. I was gonna lend a hand, but I noticed you grew a few extra ones.” His attempt at humor falls short.

“Go home, Xander.” She says, sounding even more angry than she did before, and heading towards me.

Guess their conversation was shorter than I thought it would be.

“Buffy…” 

“I'm serious!” She whirls back on him.

“So am I. Something's up. You're acting like a crazy person.”

Crazy? Apparently, she ignores him, because I hear her walking towards me again.

“Take this, for instance.” He calls after her. “You don't wanna deal, so you hide? It's not very slayer like.”

Ugh, give up while you’re ahead, Xander.

“Just leave me alone, Xander.” She sounds tired. Exhausted both physically and emotionally. “You have no idea what's going on.”

“No?” He answers. “Good! So you and Riley aren't imploding?”

Well, at least one other person saw it coming.

“It doesn't take a genius.” He says. “What I can't figure out is how you never saw it coming.”

Ouch.

“What?” She sounds startled and surprised. Strangely caught off guard. “Who told you?”

“Nobody told me anything, Buffy. It was right in front of my Xander face. The guy would do anything for you.” 

Not even close, Xander.

“The guy got himself bit by a vampire!” She tells him, her voice back to being edged with anger. “He lied to me. He ran around behind my back and almost got himself killed! And now he tells me that he's leaving with some covert military operation at midnight unless I convince him not to. Now tell me that you understand. Because of I sure as hell don't.”

“What?!” I screech, turning around. “You’ve got to be joking?”

“You gonna let him go?” Xander ignores my outburst and asks her. 

“It’s not my decision!” Buffy argues.

“Of course it is!” Both Xander and I answer at the same time, though I’m betting for different reasons. 

“Look, Hope, I get that you’re down with the whole sister slayer thing, but…”

“Do you also get how emotionally manipulative what he did was?” I ask him.

He stares at me, confused. 

“Do you get that this has all the hallmarks of a budding domestic abuser? And that this isn’t the first sign either!”

“Wha-huh?” Xander skillfully articulates.

“He accused her of cheating with Angel when she went to protect him from Faith!”

“He did?” Buffy and Xander ask simultaneously.

“When he and Angel got into the fight behind the school? He thought Angel was soulless because he assumed you had slept with him again!”

“I… he said he wasn’t…”

“Wasn’t what? Wasn’t thinking straight? Yeah, thinking the woman who’s professed her love and risked her life to rescue you, is currently cheating on you, pretty well says that.”

Both her and Xander are looking a little contrite, at that. 

“Let me ask you this," I sigh, trying to clarify things. "Did he say why he was going to the suck house?”

“He, uh,” She looks down at the pavement and crosses her arms, unconsciously rubbing them. “He said he wanted to even the score because I let Dracula bite me.” 

“What?!” I screech a second time. “You were under his thrall!” 

“I know,” She demures. “I told him that, and he said he knew that but…” 

“But what?” I ask her gently, sensing this is the crux of it all.

“He said,” She starts, but stops. I don’t need her to say it, I can probably guess what he said, but she needs to hear herself say it. 

“He said what, Buffy?” I press a little harder. 

“He said they made him feel something I didn’t,” She finishes softly. “They needed him.”

“Oh, hell no! He blamed you for him going to the suck house?” I ask, completely incredulous. “And I bet you,” I point at Xander, “We’re about to tell her what a great guy she’s about to lose, am I right?” 

He has the common sense to look away, confirming my suspicion.

“So he blames you for being a victim of Drac’s thrall. He accuses you of cheating on him. He blames you for his own cheating and addiction to it, without being under a thrall I might add, stupidly tried to beat up your ex-boyfriend. Staked Spike for outing him…”

“What?” They both ask, shocked.

“I just came from there. Riley stopped by earlier and staked Spike for showing you what Riley was doing.”

“Spike’s… Riley really staked him?” She asks, her voice equal parts disbelief and disturbed.

“No!” I clarify. “Well, yes, he did, but Spike’s not dead.” Crap, too soon to reveal his secret. I’m sure he was shocked as hell himself. Wait, why didn’t I think of that earlier? Something’s not right here. Spike supposedly doesn't find out about his new physiology until late next year. I’ll have to deal with it later. Better make something up for now. “Spike managed to evade just enough that Riley missed the heart. I guess the shock of it caught up to Riley and he took off. That’s not the point,”

“Riley tried to stake Spike?” Xander seems to be stuck in a loop.

“No try to it,” I answer. “He did. Spike just got lucky. He couldn’t fight back, so exactly what does that say about Riley?”

Xander shakes his head. “I guess I really didn’t…” He doesn’t finish his thought.

“My point is, these are all the hallmarks of a budding domestic abuser. He may not have ever hit you, or pushed you, or manhandled…”

Her flinch is unmistakable. 

“Seriously? Please tell me you kicked his arse?” I ask, seething. Yes, Soldier Boy and I are definitely going to dance soon.

“He didn’t mean it like that…” Buffy tells me.

“They never do, Buffy! Except, they really, really, do.” I tell her. “Let him go. And don’t buy into the victim-blaming, the slut-shaming, or probably the whole explanation about how he only did it because he loves you too much. Did he throw in how this was all your fault because you make him act this way?”

She seems lost in thought. Probably replaying a conversation in her head. I see the moment she realizes I’ve got him pegged. Gods, he’s so cliche. I really want to go rip his head off, but I'm afraid my mother is a little more important at the moment.

“Tell you what,” I offer. “You agree to let this small fry go, and I’ll walk you home and make you some hot chocolate, though it probably isn’t as good as what your mum makes. We can celebrate your devastating loss of being unable to join the future victims of wife beaters of America. Maybe I’ll even tell you all about the totally dumb checklist my uncle would ask every guy I dated, though he did save me from some genuine bone heads, and we can laugh about all our near misses.” 

“Nah, that’s ok. You go on. I’ll just…” She nods and turns toward her house.

“Nope, you’re stuck with me,” I say, putting an arm around her as I start walking.

“And, Xander?” I call.

“Yeah?” He asks.

“Don’t get eaten on the way home, ok?” 

He mumbles something in the way of confirmation and mentions a stake. 

My mother and I walk in comfortable silence most of the way. In fact, I could see the house before she said another word.

“Hope?”

“Yeah?” I respond. 

“What did that vampire mean when he said that you promised to keep me off his back?”

Well, so much for my plan for a nice pseudo-mother-daughter moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some dialogue from Season 5, Episode 8 - Into the Woods


	28. Chapter 27

_May 19, 2003_

“This is all so crazy, I don’t even know where to start,” Tara comments offhandedly to Xander as they sit on the porch taking a break from the tension inside.

“Tell me about it. To say the last few months have been insanely weird and crazy would be the understatement of the year.” He answers.

“More like my life.” Tara smiles. “There’s been so much apocalyptic stuff, it’s almost been hard to even think around here.” 

“Right, with Angel having his whole apocalypse thing going in L.A. I mean, what made Wesley and them think removing his soul would be a good idea?” He asks. “Sure, they had to figure out how to defeat that big demon thing that made it rain fire and blocked out the sun…”

“We’re talking totally biblical level stuff, here,” She reminded him.

“I get that,” He answered. “But it meant that Faith had to leave us and make a run for L.A. to go save him.”

“Which worked out just fine,” She reassured him. “She saved him and came back here to help us get ready for this.”

“Yeah, but she almost died doing it,” He reminded her. “And then where would we be? We’d be fighting The First Evil with a brand new baby slayer with no experience. I’m not even sure…” He trailed off. 

“That we can win? Even with Faith?” She asking him. It wasn’t difficult to tell what he was thinking. After all, they were all thinking about it. “At least Angel is here, with that amulet. That has to count for something, right?” 

“I’m not exactly banking on Liz Taylor’s cast-offs stopping the apocalypse.” He grinned.

She could help but laugh. The thing really was horribly tacky. 

“Do you really think we can win this?” He suddenly asked, giving her an intense look filled with so much fear and hesitation. 

“I have to believe we can,” She answered him. “The alternative if we don’t…”

“Yeah, I know, world ending.” He paused a moment, glancing out at the empty night. “They always are… Or were, anyway, until…”

“Until Buffy stopped them?” She finished his statement, getting a small nod from him. 

“This is the first one without her,” He almost whispered out. “I’m trying to have faith that Faith can pull it off, but…”

“Xander, you can’t compare her to Buffy,” She softly chastised him. “It isn’t fair to either her or Buffy.”

“I know,” He answered her, still softly, as if afraid someone else might hear. “And I know she’s trying. She’s definitely changed from just a couple of years ago, but still… She’s not Buffy.”

“No one ever will be,” She reminded him. “And that’s ok. Faith seems really capable. And she’s really starting to get the others to follow her lead and believe in her. Thanks, in no small part, to you.”

“Yeah, well… I meant what I said. She’s earned their respect. They may not like it, but she is the slayer now and they need her more than ever.”

“We all do,” Tara reminded him.

“It isn’t going to be easy leading a bunch of potential slayers into a battle with a bunch of ancient demons. They’re scared, but she’s fighting for them as much as anything else. They don’t have the power she does, and might never have it, but that doesn’t mean they can’t fight.” 

“She has faith in them, so they have faith in themselves?” She tried to clarify his thoughts. 

“In a roundabout way, I guess. Just more… blunt.” He grinned. 

She nodded in agreement. Faith certainly wasn’t one for dressing up anything she said.

“Still, I just can’t shake the feeling that things would be different if Buffy were here.” He shook his head slightly.

“It would be. But we don’t know if that would be better or worse.” 

“Don’t think it could be worse for Dawn and Phe.” He pointed out.

She wasn’t sure how to answer that. He wasn’t exactly wrong. They’d had it rough. Well, Dawn had. Losing her sister again so soon after Spike had made her bitter and angry. She could barely stand it when Giles was around at all and didn’t hide her hatred. She’d hoped that with time she would learn to forgive him and Willow, but it seemed her anger and resentment had only grown instead. She half wondered if Dawn’s insistence to stay instead of leaving with Anya and Willa to the relative safety of L.A. and Angel’s team had less to do with “A Summer’s should be here for this battle of the Hellmouth,” and more to do with seeking to end her grief and be with her sister. 

“You keep calling her Phe?” She asked him. “You aren’t the only one either, I’ve noticed.”

“Yeah,” He grinned, looking slightly embarrassed. “Having a Willow and a Willa gets a little confusing, and Ophelia doesn’t exactly roll off the tongue.”

“Nor Willamina,” Tara smiled. “And I can fully appreciate the issue, myself. Still, Buffy called her Willa, so it just feels right to me to continue, you know?” 

“Yeah, I get that,” He answered. “But I think the others…”

“Don’t like to be reminded who she’s named after?” She didn’t mean to dig. Not really. 

“More like, what they did,” He answered after a not so subtle grimace. 

“Maybe that means it’s even more important that they do. Remember, that is.” She couldn’t help but point out the obvious. 

“Hey, no argument from me on that one!” He held his hands up in defense. “I still can’t believe they did it. Good intentions or not. He was defenseless…” He shook his head again and leaned on the porch railing. 

“And he had a soul,” She pointed out. 

“That, too,” 

“And he loved them both,” She added. 

“Yeah,” He sighed. “He did.” Xander seemed to be thinking about something, so she gave him time. “I may not have ever really liked the guy, but even I could see that.”

“I remember a time not so long ago that wasn’t the case,” She pointed out.

“No. No, it wasn’t.” He admitted. “What can I say? Maybe I wasn’t always the one who sees? Definitely not the case anymore.”

A small giggle escaped her, drawing an offended look from him. 

“It isn’t your eyes that you see with, Xander. Well, I mean it is, but… it’s your heart.” She clarified.

“Well, at least he didn’t poke that out,” He added with only a trace of bitterness. “I might want to use it again one day.”

“I think you already are.” She smiled, knowingly. He and Anya seemed to be getting along better for the last several weeks. Not necessarily rekindling, but it seemed like there might be hope for the future there. 

“You have no idea how relieved I was that she agreed to take Phe to L.A.!” He sighed in obvious relief. 

“She seemed pretty happy about it herself,” Tara laughed. 

“Well, she’s always been smarter than the rest of us when it came to handling the next apocalypse,” He smiled into the night. “Still, I think it would have been better if you and Dawn had gone, too.” 

“I know,” She answered truthfully. She’d thought a lot about it. “But I’m needed here to help with the magic so we can try to channel as much sunlight into the cavern as possible. And I promised Dawn that I would leave the choice to stay or go up to her.”

“Do you think that was smart?” He asked, looking at her.

“That’s hard to answer. Her home is here. She’s lost so much this last year, and she is desperately needing to have some control in her life. We talked it over and Faith’s been training her along with the others… I think she can handle herself.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about,” He answered. “What if… what if we all die tomorrow? I’m ready, we’re all ready. But…”

“But?” She prompted when he didn’t seem to be any further forthcoming. 

“What happens to Phe? Shouldn’t she have at least one family member to raise her? Who’s going to tell her stories about her mom? Or help her with her powers, whatever those are going to be? Protect her from all the things that want to hurt her just because of who she is? Who will tell her about us? About what we did here? About how special she is?” He rambled out his string of concerns.

She’d pondered those questions herself. Of course, so had both Buffy and Spike. And they hadn’t been facing an apocalypse, ironically. Just the everyday fears of being a slayer and a vampire on the Hellmouth. Though if she thought about it, most parents probably had the same fears. Life was never a guarantee, and when you had a child to care for, it was just that much more precious, and that much more frightening as well. 

“Buffy put a lot of thought into her plans. She knew we might face something like this at some point. I promise, she’ll be taken care of.”

“I know, but they won’t know and love her like we do,” He countered. 

“But she’ll be even more precious to them as a reminder of everyone and what we fought for,” She reassured him. 

“That’s a lot to ask of a kid who’s only 10 months old,” He once again looked dismayed. 

“Who’s already walking, running, and climbing,” She laughed.

“And talking in short sentences,” He added.

“And seems to be as drawn to vampires as her mom,” Xander added more seriously. 

“Oh, come on, Xander, you have to admit the whole teaching her to growl thing was pretty cute. And who else is going to show her about that side of her powers?”

“Do we really have to?” He asked.

“It’s part of who she is, Xander,” She urged him. It seemed that even he wasn’t too keen on accepting that, even if he accepted what Spike and Buffy had was real love and that what had been done to him was wrong. “She’ll need to be able to use all of her strengths when she’s older, even if they come from that aspect of who she is.”

“Yeah, I know, doesn’t mean I have to like it. But it is pretty fun to watch Angel get all upset when she laughs every time he goes all evil and fangy in front of her instead of shifting. You think she’ll ever have a game face like him and Spike?”

“I’m not sure,” She answered honestly. So far all Willa had been able to do was drop out some tiny little fangs, and her eyes got a lot lighter, but that’s it. “Maybe kids like her don’t really have one?” 

He nodded and seemed to contemplate that more. 

“Man, I wish Buffy were here.” Xander finally said. 

“I know,” She nodded. “Honestly? Me, too.”

“You think she’s watching? Can they see things here from heavenly dimensions?” He asked. 

“I don’t know. But I have a feeling that someone’s watching out for us,” She answered honestly. She couldn’t explain how or why she felt that way. 

“Really?” He asked with curiosity.

“I do,” She nodded. “I just have this feeling that there’s hope. Like, somehow, someway, this is all going to work out.”

“Well, I hope you’re right,” He replied. 

“Me, too,” She answered. “Me, too.”


	29. Chapter 28

_January 7, 2000_

“Hi, Henry!” I smile at the thirty-something guy who just crawled out of his grave, fully aware that my mother is standing just out of newborn sensory range watching my little display.

He peers up at me with something akin to confusion as he continues to spit grave dirt out of his mouth. 

“Who are… where am I?” He asks, looking around with even more confusion.

“You’re in Sunnydale Cemetery. Happy birthday, by the way.”

“What are you talking about? It isn’t my birthday.” He says, frowning with his full game face still on, which makes me laugh. I don’t really know why, but watching newborn vamps try to emote in full game face is just amusing as hell to me. Like, they don’t realize that the lumpy bumpies alter their expressions, sometimes muting them, sometimes exaggerating them, so it just comes off comical. After a few seconds, I collect myself and apologize. 

“Sorry! But, yeah, it sort of is your new birthday. Can’t you feel it?” I ask him.

“Feel what?” He asks, predictably. It’s almost like they’re born with a script.

“Everything!” I recite my own scripted words. “Can’t you feel it, smell it, hear it, taste it? All of it overwhelming your senses and feeding into the brain of yours as it begins to process the fact that you’re dead, Henry, and yet you feel more alive than you ever did as a human?”

“Wait… I’m dead?” Henry asks.

Finally! I’m almost jumping for joy. This is the tenth one my mother has watched me as I watched them rise. I was beginning to wonder when I’d finally get lucky.

“Yes, Henry, you’re dead,” I answer him with a sad smile.

“I don’t feel dead.” He counters. 

“That’s because you’re a vampire now,” I tell him, earning a scoffing snort. Oh, this one might be a bit of fun.

“There’s no such thing as vampires!” He protests. 

“Well, I’d show you that you’re wrong, but you don’t have a reflexion and I seem to have left my polaroid at home,” I tell him. “Guess we’ll have to go with something more traditional.” 

I bring my index finger up to my mouth and gently prick it with one of my fangs, then hold the finger out letting the blood well up on the pad of the finger. Within a few seconds, Henry is predictably starting to salivate and edging towards me. 

“You feel it calling to you, Henry? Telling you it’s time to eat?” I ask, then stick my finger in my mouth and lap at the nick as my combined vamp/slayer healing starts to close the tiny wound.

He suddenly stops, looking pretty confused, overwhelmed with hunger but obviously fighting it. 

“Look, you seem like a nice girl… for someone who hangs out in cemeteries… but maybe you should go on home. I’ve heard some weird rumors about this town at night,” He says. 

“And now you’re part of those rumors. It sucks, but it is what it is. Let me ask you a question, Henry?” 

“Uh, sure, ok.” He replies.

“You have a family?” I ask him. 

“Nah, it’s just me and my dogs Macy and Pookie.” He answers, and it’s all I can do not to snort.

“That feeling you’re fighting right now? That’s the hunger. It’s powerful, really powerful, but it can be controlled. The question is, Henry, do you want to? Or when you think of Macy and Pookie, do you just think of food?”

“I’d never hurt Macy and Pookie!” He insists quite indignantly. 

“What about me? Do I smell like food to you?” I ask. 

He seems to vacillate for a few moments. 

“Look, I don’t want to lie to you, and this is all really confusing, but yeah, you smell like food!”

“Good, at least you’re honest. Now the question is, are you planning to attack me?” I ask him with all seriousness.

“What?” He asks quietly. “A-attack you?” 

“Yeah, you know, eat me?” I ask again. 

He starts backing up, shaking his head back and forth, but then his stomach rumbles loud enough to wake the dead in the next three spaces around us, and he stops. 

“I can help you with that if you’ll let me,” I tell him. “But we don’t have much time. The choice is yours, Henry.” 

Again, he seems to be weighing his options. After another growl from his stomach, he quickly nods his head in the affirmative and I tell him to follow me as I point out the crypt we're heading for. I keep a mini-fridge in the Howard crypt in this cemetery, with a few pints of blood in it. It isn’t enough to fill them up but it’ll take the edge off long enough for me to get him to one of the underground nests that’ll teach him what he needs to know to survive. 

I feel my mother following along behind us, still watching. I can hear her heartbeat cranking away at a steady pace as she waits, ready to pounce and stake poor Henry here as soon as he lunges for me. I’m not stupid though. I know to keep the newborns a step in front of me and my stake out of sight, but still at the ready. 

“Tell you what, Henry," I say, handing him the first container. "You drink down these pints, and then we’ll go find you a new family, alright?”

He nods, drinking down the first pint pretty quickly, then the next two a little slower, but still fast enough to tell me he’s pretty hungry. 

I’m thinking he might be a good fit for a nest that likes to hide out in the cemetery close to the Sunnydale natural museum. 

“Hey, Henry?” I get his attention.

“Yeah?”

“How well do you like young adults?” I ask him. That particular nest has quite a few more cerebral young adults in it, but they’re sort of looking for more fatherly types since most of them were turned young enough to still need some guidance, but none of them were exactly the types to really embrace the suck house life either. Not that it’s a great life, but some of them like it well enough.

“You know, I always thought the youth of tomorrow have a lot of promise and I always wanted to have kids. I just never did find the right woman.” He says wistfully. 

“Well, being homosexual male will do that,” I tell him. 

“What? I’m not…” He pauses. “Is it really that obvious?” He asks, deflating.

“Hey,” I hold my hands up. “No judging here. Besides, you might find your fellow vamps are a little less judgemental in that arena. Plenty of them that really couldn’t care less what gets your motor running. So, maybe this is a good opportunity for you.”

“You think so?” He asks with no small amount of curiosity.

“I do. However, there are a few ground rules you need to know.” I tell him as I start walking him towards the nest I have in mind.

“Oh… ok…” 

“First, I’m a slayer. That means that I was put on this earth to fight against evil. I’m not the only slayer, however. You run across one of the other ones, you’re dead. So follow the rules the nest gives you unless you want to find out what really happens after your final death. Got it?”

He pales a little bit, but nods. 

“Second, I hear or see you’re out hurting people or pets, you’ll find out I’m just as deadly as the other slayers. Got it?”

He nods again. 

“Third, don’t ever stop being you. You may have a demon animating your body right now, but inside is still everything that was you. Your memories, feelings, thoughts, and desires. You hold on to the things you loved, and find new ones, too. Don’t ever give the demon full control, or you’re no better than the twenty vampires I dusted before you climbed out of your grave, got it?”

Again, he looks a little nervous and paler, but he nods. 

“You go full demon, I go full slayer, and then you go bye-bye in the form of dust in the wind. Make sense?” 

He nods once more. 

“Good! Now, let’s go meet your new family!” I clap him on the back with a cheerful smile and then push him a step ahead of me again. “We’re headed over by the natural history museum,” I tell him.

“Really?” He perks up. “I love the museum!”

“I thought you might,” I answer with only a small bit of amusement showing. 

We finish the rest of the stroll in amiable silence. He asks a few more questions, like what’ll happen to his dogs and such. I promise to see if I can find out but recommend against taking on any pets in the near future, much to his sadness. I try to reassure him that his new family will help stave off the loneliness and give him purpose. 

Once we arrive, I pound on the door a few times, waiting for someone to answer it. After a few more blows, someone finally opens it. 

“Slayer,” the leader of the nest, a guy named Billy, greets me dryly.

“Hey, Billy! Good to see you too! Things have been great, thanks for asking, how about you?” I smile at him. “Hey! Did I introduce you to my new friend, Henry, yet? Meet my new friend, Henry! He’s a great guy. Loves young adults. Was living the single life with two dogs named Macy and Pookie before his new life. I know you guys have been looking for someone a little older to keep everyone grounded and thought Henry here just might fit the bill.” 

My eyes really don’t give Billy a lot of choice in the matter, but if he says no then I’ll try to park Henry somewhere else. I’m usually pretty good at reading people and figuring out where they might fit in, so I rarely get asked to find somewhere else. 

Billy gives Henry a thorough once over with his discerning eye. Billy may look like he’s only seventeen, and honestly, he probably was when he was turned. But that was also about 40 years ago, so he’s definitely got some unlife skills going on and knows how to keep his little nest safe. In fact, he’s one of the older vamps living in the city proper. After a few tense seconds, Billy gives Henry a nod of approval and pushes open the crypt door a little further. 

“Well, Henry, good luck! Have a nice unlife.” I push him through the door and then turn to head out before my mother decides to come charging out of the shadows. 

“What about my dogs?” I hear him ask from inside the crypt.

“I’ll check on them and let you or Billy know! Not to worry!” I yell back and make a beeline for the street side exit of the cemetery.

I make it about 50 feet down the road before she catches up and starts walking next to me. 

“Well?” I ask her.

“Doesn’t prove anything,” She answers smoothly.

“Except that he didn’t rise as a bloodthirsty killer?” I counter. 

“All you proved is he has better control than most. He’s still just a demon wearing a human meat suit. And one day he’s going to decide that none of his efforts are worth it and he’s going to kill.”

“Can I ask you a question?”

“I guess,” She answers. 

“How many years of not killing would it take to convince you that they aren’t all unsavable? A hundred? Two hundred? Or will only a having a human soul convince you?”

“I don’t know, Hope! I just know that vampires are evil. They kill humans and it's my job and yours to kill them. Slayer meet vampire, slayer kill vampire. Simple, easy, elegant.” 

“Just a demon wearing a human meat suit, huh?” 

“I thought you said you were raised by a watcher?” She looks at me with a frustrated frown.

“I was. A completely old school, stuffed shirt, who loved me like his own. But he was wrong.” 

“He wasn’t wrong. Vampires are nothing more than demons walking around with the face and memories of the person they killed.”

“That’s why Henry was worried about his dogs, right?” I ask her, one eyebrow cocked up in a challenge. 

“Maybe he wanted to eat them,” She retorts defiantly. 

“Did you hear his response when I asked that?” I’m smiling now as she’s obviously reaching. 

“Well… I… I don’t know, ok? But it isn’t love or anything good.” 

“Why not?” I ask her.

“Because vampires can’t love!” She asserts. 

“You’re so very, very, wrong on that account, Buffy,” I tell her gently. 

“They have no souls, Hope!” She tells me like I’m a five-year-old. 

“They do, just not a human one.” My reply catches her off guard. “Many demon species mate for life and raise children together in a loving home. Some species have been quite helpful to society for thousands of years. Some have integrated and married with humans for generations. Some of them even exert a sort of protectorate over the humans in their area. It’s not unusual at all to see Ana-Movic or Bracken demons marrying humans. Vampires are no different. They can love, sometimes staying with a mate for centuries. Granted, most don’t make it more than a few years, but that’s just Darwinism at work.” I laugh.

“Look, I want to believe you, I do. It just goes against everything I’ve ever learned or read. And every vampire I’ve ever met, too!” She asserts, seeming a little tired. 

“I can name two you’ve met who have shown they can love.” I challenge her. 

“Angel has a soul,” She gives me a critical eye. “He couldn’t love me when he didn’t have one.” 

I detect the slight edge of bitterness hiding inside that wound. 

“He did love you, and his demon hated the fact that it did. That’s why he wanted to punish you and destroy everything around you.” I tell her gently.

“That’s just his M.O. It’s what he does.” She asserts.

“No, what he does is kill anything and everything that makes him feel vulnerable, but only if he knows he can beat it. He avoided slayers like the plague his entire vampire existence. He went after you because you dared to show him love, and he dared to love you back, demon and all. That love made his demon feel vulnerable. That’s why he came after you and why he wanted to send the world to hell when he couldn’t accomplish it.” I tell her.

I can tell my words have shaken her up a bit and decide to switch subjects. 

“Besides, Angel isn’t the only one that you’ve met who can love,” I tell her. 

“Who’s the other?” She asks warily. 

“Do I really have to tell you?” I ask her. 

She gives me a very critical look and I am beginning to wonder if I really do have to tell her. I guess so. But in a minute. 

“Hey, can I ask you a weird question?” 

“Depends…” She hedges. 

“What was Harmony like before she was turned?” I ask her.

She cocks her head to the side a bit in thought, and I can almost see the wheels turning.

“Well, a lot like she is now actually. Just less with the blood-sucking.”

“Doesn’t that seem to run counter to the whole demon in a meat suit theory? I mean, Harmony is still Harmony, isn’t she?” 

She fish-mouths a few times, and then I decide to rescue her.

“The answer is yes. She’s still Harmony. She just has a demon animating her and she's feeding her hunger. She hasn’t had any reason to control her hunger yet. But I’d bet everything I have that given the right motivation, she’d bag it even without a soul.”

She rolls her eyes and turns to walk off, and I fall into step beside her.

“You never did guess who the other one is,” I remind her. 

“That’s because there isn’t another one,” She answers. 

“Oh, strike one!” I call out. “Can our fearless slayer guess the correct answer or will she strike out?”

“I’m not playing any more games, Hope. Vampires can’t love without a soul.”

“Oh, no! Strike two for our slayer. Looks like she’s doomed folks. Can she pull out a save at the last minute?”

“Fine!" She throws her hands up. "Who is it?” 

“You really don’t know?” I ask her, incredulous.

“No! I don’t.” She answers. 

“Oh! Strike tree folks. The correct answer is, Spike! Looks like our slayer is doomed to forever walk in the blind ignorance of council dogma.”

“ First, It’s not council dogma!” She asserts as she stops and turns to face me, hands on her hips in frustration. “Second, Spike? Are you serious? Spike?” 

“It so is council dogma,” I laugh at her. “And they’ve known that for centuries and hid it.”

That got her attention. 

“You’re lying,” She tells me.

“Really not,” I tell her. “And I’m living proof!” 

Meh, go for broke I guess. 

“What do you mean, you’re living proof?” She asks me. 

“Only if you promise not to tell another living soul!” I tell her, looking around to make sure no one and nothing is watching. I focus my senses outward and check for anything that might be lurking unseen. 

“Depends on what you say,” She answers. Fair enough.

“I’m asking this of you because if anyone, especially the council, finds out then I’m dead.”

“Is this about that whole twenty-five-year-old slayer thing?” She asks.

“No, this is about a vampire falling in love thing.”

“I’m still not understanding anything you’re saying,” She says in frustration.

“Look, if I tell you this, you have to promise. I mean it. Demons and humans alike will hunt me down and kill me. It’s that serious.” I tell her. 

“Hope, you’re scaring me,” She says with complete seriousness. Which is good, because I know I’ve gotten my message across. 

“Good. Because I’m completely serious, Buffy. You can’t tell a soul.”

She nods in obvious concern tinged with a more than a little fear. 

“Ok, we have to do this right so you don’t wig out,” I tell her. I hold out my arm and tell her to find my pulse. She looks at me dubiously but does as I ask. “Let me know when you’ve got it. Keep your fingers on it. 

“Okaaay…” She draws out. 

“Now, watch my eyes,” I tell her. 

I once again glance around to double-check we aren’t being watched, and double-check my senses as well, then slowly let my demon slide forth. My fangs drop down, and my eyes taking on a much, much, lighter shade of blue. My forehead and cheekbones shift a few millimeters, but it’s so subtle most people can’t even detect it. 

I hear her gasp as she jerks her hand away and takes a step back.

“No!” I tell her. “Feel my pulse! It’s still there, Buffy.” I hold my wrist out further. 

Whether by wonder or curiosity, she cautiously steps forward again and reaches out a shaky hand towards my wrist, and quickly find my pulse again. As she turns to stare up at me again, I let my demon recede and smile at her.

“See, still alive and breathing. I’m just as human as you are.”

“But… how? What are you?”

“A slayer, just like you," I answer. "But I’m also the only child of the last vampire that could breed with a human,” I tell her. Well, sort of. I mean, there is still grandfather, but I just don’t see it happening and that’s beside the point, anyway.

“That’s impossible,” She asserts, stepping back again. “It’s a... a trick or something."

“Not impossible and not a trick. What I’m about to tell you isn’t common knowledge, not anymore, anyway. But it is documented in the demon archives and even the council’s own most ancient texts. There were once many different types of vampires. Each had different traits based on the demon that sired their line. Evolution also caused different changes and mutations over time. Under certain conditions, some of those types were able to breed with humans. But it was forbidden in the demon world and the human world. Any offspring were hunted and killed. Sometimes before they were even born. The council decided that the best way to prevent it from ever happening again was to bury the knowledge as deep as they could.” 

“That doesn’t mean that…” 

“My parents loved each other deeply,” I cut her off. “He would have given his life for her if she’d asked it. And my mother almost died trying to get to him in time when a group of vampire hunters captured him.” It’s as close as I can get to the truth. “I still have the letters he left for us just in case anything ever happened to him. He loved us more than anything in the world. She died less than two months later from her injuries.” Well, what else was I going to say?

“Hope… I… I had no idea,” she whispers out, the beginnings to tears in her eyes. I blink back my own as well. “Did your watcher know?”

“Yes, he knew. He kept it from the council to keep us safe.” 

I’m not going to mention that he only thought it was truly possible once my father got a soul.

“So yes, the fact that vampires can’t love is council dogma. They teach all slayers that vampires are nothing more than mindless evil predators that need exterminating. They aren’t completely wrong, most of them are. But some, like Henry, retain most of their humanity and can learn to control their demon with the right motivation and guidance. And yes, they can also love. That’s why I give them a chance.”

“I don’t know what to say, Hope. I…" She pauses for several long moments, clearly torn about everything she's heard and seen tonight. "Look, I really need to go. Mom is…”

“Still recovering. I know. Go… go spend every moment you can with her. One day she won’t be here, and you’ll wish you had just one more second.”

She smiles gratefully and then turns to go, a contemplative frown marring her beautiful face. Hopefully, I’ve planted the seed that can begin to undo the damage that Giles and the council have done.

I wish I could tell her just how limited her moments are with her mother. But the best I can do is give her the freedom to spend what little time is left with her while I try to figure out how to kill Glory before my mother has to make the jump to save the world. I’m sure that this is the key to it all. I just have to find a way to do it.


	30. Chapter 29

_May 20, 2003_

As soon as the witches start chanting, a whole sea of ubervamps turns towards us and starts moving in our direction. There are thousands of them, maybe hundreds of thousands, rolling towards us like waves on the ocean. Angry, growling, waves with shiny metal swords. I wonder where they got them all? Do they have a forge down there somewhere? A stash of iron and steel? Do they mine it? It this place like some sort of underground middle earth?

Sooner than any of us are ready for, the first wave of the ubervamps crashes against us. At least we have the high ground. They have to climb to get to us, which gives us a tactical advantage. At least that's what Faith or Kennedy would say. 

Right now Faith's saying to hold the line no matter what. I'm busy hacking and slashing at anything the comes near me while trying to make sure not to get too far from my sister potentials. We aren't exactly a Spartan phalanx, but we're a determined little bunch. There are thirty-two of us potentials here with Faith to try and defeat the First Evil. There may be more in the world, but The First has done a heck of a job finding and killing as many of us as possible. But now that I'm seeing just how many of those ubervamp things there are, I'm not sure we can do this. 

But, we do have a plan. Supposedly that awful necklace the vampire brought back from L.A. is supposed to somehow "cleanse" the evil from here. We just have to hold the ubervamps off long enough for it to activate. The vampire is wearing it now, along with his all-black outfit and coat, swinging that sword of his around looking like some avenging pimp with his harem full of prostitutes by his side. I'd laugh at the absurdity of it all if I wasn't scared to death.

While we, Faith, and the vampire are hacking and slashing, the witches are at the back of cavern trying to conjure up little balls of sunlight and throw them out at the Ubervamps. It's working ok, more or less. Sometimes more, sometimes less. It seems like they clear one little patch of ubers just to have them all replaced by a new batch. Don't get me wrong, I can appreciate the hell out of them dusting 30 or 50 ubers at a time, but in a sea of possibly hundreds of thousands, it feels like a drop in the bucket. 

The rest of the people, the normals as Kennedy calls them, are up top trying to make sure none of the ubers slip past us and out of the school. Not that there's a lot of them, but if we do our job right then there won't need to be a lot of them. However, looking around now, it wouldn't shock me if some are already starting to make it around our little ragtag group.

So far I'm holding my own. I've managed to kill four ubervamps and repel the rest. I spare a second to glance at my sister potentials and notice one of them is down, and the evil preacher is going hand to hand with Faith. She's yelling at us to stay strong and keep fighting. So I keep hacking and slashing. How did the guy get down here, anyway? 

"...Got news for you darlin', a cursed soul ain't cleansing a thing from this here earth; so that shiny bauble he's wearing is just going to be a pretty little decoration for his big pile of ashes..." I hear the evil preacher tell Faith as they struggle. 

The preacher had to have come down the stairs. Surely he's lying, right? I mean, that's supposed to be our ace in the hole if it ever does whatever it's supposed to do. I chance a quick glance to notice the witches have pushed away from the entrance and moved toward the main group. And Amanda, who was guarding the rear, is down as well. Damn, I liked her. I figured she'd be one of the ones who'd make it out. 

"Faith!" I hear the vampire scream out and look over to see that she's got a sword sticking out of her chest, and she's wearing a stunned look on her face as she stares at it. Quick as a flash, the evil preacher dude grabs her head and it's all over. Her body drops to the ground, lifeless eyes staring at nothing. A handful of ubers set on her and start sucking her dry, just like the two... make it three... potentials who are down already. 

I hear Chao give out a beastly scream as she suddenly starts swinging like Paul Bunyan. For a second I think she's probably snapped, but then I realize that she's been chosen. Something about the way she's carrying herself. Like she's suddenly got the confidence and ability of all of us put together. Heck, maybe she does. 

The witches are pushing back to the entrance to cut off the flow of ubers up the stairs, and it seems like all they can do now is defend themselves. Willow is looking all black and veiny and pissed off and I just hope she doesn't end up killing us all. I heard about what she did last summer. 

Now it's Cari who's screaming like a banshee as Chao is lying at her feet, three ubervamps converging on her body. Damn. That didn't last long. Cari’s a force to be reckoned with on a good day though, so maybe it'll work out after all. I just need to keep fighting. Have a little faith. We can do this. We have to. If we're all that there is and that sea of ubervamps gets out of here, the world is toast. 

So I keep swinging, and hacking, and slashing. I'm determined to make it out of here no matter what. I am not going to be turned into vamp chow! 

But every few minutes, I get a little more worried as another one of us goes down. One of the others will let out a battle cry and I know there's a new slayer. The question is, how many new slayers will it take to win this battle? 

"Angel!" I hear Tara scream out, and catch the spectacle out of the corner of my eye as the vampire loses his head, literally, and turns to a pile of dust. The god awful necklace drops to the ground on top of it. 

Meanwhile, off to my right, I hear the evil preacher cackling as he's taunting Shannon, the latest one to get the slayer power. Suddenly, she drops her sword and starts running for the entrance. She doesn't make it far before an ubervamp jumps in front of her and snaps her neck. 

And so it goes for what feels like hours. My arms, legs, and pretty much every bone and muscle in my body is screaming at me that they can't keep going like this. But I have to. Because this is not how I plan to go out. 

I manage to chance another look using my peripheral vision as a slightly weaker ubervamp lunges towards me. Maybe we are tiring them out after all? Unfortunately, I’m not reassured by what I see. Besides Willow, there’s only a handful of us left. Sarah is the current chosen one, I think, but she’s looking a lot like I feel at the moment. One… two… three… I count six of us, including Sarah. I don’t see Tara anywhere, so I don’t think she’s dead, still… wait… there she is, behind Willow, holding her arm.

Suddenly I’m almost knocked off my feet by this overwhelming force that slams into me like a ton of bricks. Only instead of feeling heavy or crushed, it’s like I just got Frankensteined to life. All the fatigue is gone. All the soreness is gone. I feel like I could suddenly go a hundred rounds with an alligator. Which is kind of funny since I guess that’s sort of what these ubervamps are, a prehistoric eating machine at the top of the food chain. 

My brain kicks back in and I’m swinging my sword. I slice through the weak uber’s neck like it is warm butter. A girl could get used to this! But I have to be smart. I take stock as I strike at the next uber charging me. Four girls, an injured witch, and a good witch left in the cavern. A sea of ubervamps still rolling towards us. And I suddenly realize… we’ve lost. 

We have to warn the others. I’ve got to get everyone out of here, or the First will roll into every town and country with no warning. We’ve got to pull back and regroup. 

“Vi!” I shout at her. She and Rona are fighting back to back, surrounded by ubers. 

“Yeah?” She shouts back.

“You and the other’s get out of here! Regroup and head to L.A.” I order them. 

“No!” I hear Kennedy shout “We have to hold the line!” 

“There is no line!” I shout back at her. I battle my way to where she’s fighting alone. Only three left now. I thrust my sword into an uber to my left and grab Kennedy by the shirt front. “We’ve lost! Get over it! We have to get the others to safety and warn everyone!” 

I push her roughly towards the entrance and turn around just in time to dodge a grab from evil preacher dude. I take a swing with my sword, but he dances away and just out of reach. 

“You and your merry little band can't leave the party early, now, slayer. That’d just be terrible manners!” He grins at me, his eyes completely black. The feeling of evil that rolls off of him makes me want to vomit. 

“Go!” I scream. 

“Not without you!” Rona yells back at me.

“I’m right behind you! Now go!” I command them as I start backing towards the entrance, all the time fighting ubers and keeping an eye on the maniacally grinning evil preacher. He isn't the only one grinning though. I’ve got my own ace in the hole. I am not ending up vamp chow if it comes down to it. 

I keep swinging, hacking away arms, hands, ribs, heads, whatever will come off is fair game in my opinion. And if it makes them back off, even better. I manage to see everyone is making it up the stairs, much to my relief. Now they just have to get the others and get to the bus. I turn and make a break for it. 

You’d be amazed at how much coordination it takes to fight your way up a set of stairs, but I make it. I see Vi and Kennedy running for the doors, right behind Willow and Tara, as I’m battling in a circle to keep Bringers and ubers alike from following after them. The handful of remaining Bringers goes down, leaving only a plethora of ubers. Meanwhile that creepy preacher dude is following after us, still grinning. Wood is suddenly next to me, fighting pretty well considering he’s got a giant hole in his chest. 

I catch sight of Mr. Giles, Xander, and Dawn, as they slide in from other halls and make a break for the entrance as well. I nearly trip over someone’s body and chance a glance down to see that it’s Andrew, or what’s left of him anyway. Wood is yelling at everyone to hurry it up. I tell him to go, that he’s no good to me injured like that. He keeps it up he’ll be dead in seconds. He pauses a moment and then stumbles off at a rapid pace with Vi suddenly under one arm helping him. Good girl, Vi. 

I manage to take out a dozen more ubers before I’m certain everyone has made it out and I decide it’s time to join them. 

“Now, I know what you’re thinkin’,” Preacher dude is suddenly standing in front of me. “Gee, I might actually make it out of here!” He says as he picks me up by the throat and throws me fifty feet backward, bowling over a handful of ubers who cushion my landing about as well as a bunch of cinder blocks. 

“Well, little girl, I’m thinkin’ I’m going to enjoy killin' you!” He smiles, marching forward again as I come up chopping off heads and hands. 

Something about the way preacher dude said ‘little girl’ just really pisses me off. I’ve watched him kill dozens of my friends today. People I considered sisters. Good people who fought to save the world from people like him. And now... I'm angry.

“No,” I whisper out, my voice trembling.

“What’s that?” He smirks, positioning himself just an arm’s reach away as I stand there, head down, sword in one hand, covered in blood and sweat. Some of it mine, some belonging to my sister slayers and potentials. “Didn’t catch what you said on account of all the terror in your voice.”

“My name…” I grab the handle of my sword with determination. “Is Brianna!” I spin right, winding up as quick and hard as possible before snapping my sword around and taking his head clean off with the sudden move. “Brianna, the vampire slayer,” I smirk at his fallen body as his head goes rolling down the hallway. 

“Bree! Your six!” I hear Rona yell. 

I spin just in time to miss getting my neck snapped by an uber. But not quite quick enough, as its claws graze my throat, digging deep gouges on the left side before I take its arm off at the shoulder with an upswing. I feel the flow of warm liquid spilling down my neck and slap my left hand up to staunch the flow, as I keep swinging at the endless supply of ubers still following us.

“Leave! Now!” I shout at Rona. “Do it!” 

Thankfully I see her fighting her way back towards the doors again and hear her yell at Vi to load up. A second later, the roar of the bus’s engine makes its way to me. I hear a bunch of shouting like people are arguing. They’re all going to die if they don’t get going. I’d love nothing more than to be running out those doors right now, but the river coursing through my fingers and around my hand says otherwise. But I’m not going to be vamp chow, no matter what. I’m not!

I drop my left hand long enough to reach inside the pocket of my cargo pants, finding my little ace in the hole and pull it out, to hold it in my right hand, along with my sword, still pointing at all the ubers starting to fill the hall. Xander managed to scrounge up a couple of these from the old base and I happen to be one of the lucky ones that grabbed one. We’re supposed to use it only if we have to, as a last resort. Well, as I watch a dozen ubers stalking towards me slobbering over all the blood I’m spilling, this seems like a ‘last resort’ sort of situation. Besides, if the others don’t wait for me, then they just might make it. 

I look around, trying to find the most strategic place I can. There’s an open area about 20 feet from the doors, a large overhead skylight capping it. That should do it. I back my way to the area but stop just at the edge of it. If I do this right, the whole thing should come down and the light will prevent the ubers from following anyone... for now. 

I slide my thumb into the loop, squeeze the handle against my sword hilt, and ease the pin out, as the ubers crowd together, pushing and shoving, waiting for their moment to pounce. When the hallway is as full as it can get, I lean against one of the supporting columns and bring the sword and grenade up, cradling it against my chest, and pop the handle. Three to five seconds, I remind myself. 

Five…

I hope they remember me.

Four…

“Come and get it, bastards!” I yell as I drop my left hand, letting the blood flow free, and then drop the sword as well.

Three…

The ubers rush forward.

Two…

...


	31. Chapter 30

_January 22, 2001_

“I’m just saying that instead of just harder workouts, you should let her train with me more,” I tell Giles for about the twentieth time since the council left town, as I peer behind a set of stacked wooden pallets as we search for my aunt Dawn. She's scarpered off to have herself a sort of existential crisis. I know where we’re going to eventually find her, but that’s beside the point. I’ve been trying to convince Giles to let me train Buffy since the whole debacle with the Council.

And wasn’t that a jolly romp! I never had the pleasure of meeting Quentin Travers myself, but I’d heard from my Uncle Wes that he was quite the piece of work who couldn’t locate his arse without requisitioning it in triplicate. I thought he was being facetious, but apparently not. Though, he didn’t quite cover just how much of a righteous prick the fellow was. Guess he didn’t want to speak too ill of the dead. 

“I-I’ll admit that your skills are quite advanced,” He says, moving a small trashcan. “But you have to remember that you’ve had decades of intensive training. Buffy’s only been the slayer for…”

“Five years now!” I interrupt him, pausing my useless search to face him. “And she doesn’t know about peaceful tribes, or the groups that try to stay off the radar, or any of the more fanatic groups routinely ready to raise a demon, or a god. Or the groups that worship hell gods. How’s she supposed to fight a hell god if she’s only got a fraction of the information she needs?”

“Buffy’s doing quite remarkable at this juncture in her training, and I’m confident she will find a way to prevail against Glory.” He ignores my point as he checks behind some cardboard boxes.

“Yes, but at what cost?” I ask him. “All I’m saying is, you think she needs a tougher regimen. I think she needs more information. Why can’t we put them both together and let me do some training with her? It seems as good a use as any for an old slayer.”

“You aren’t old, Hope,” He rolls his eyes at me. 

I’ve been able to use that line to annoy him since I was sixteen. Probably because it reminds him just how mortal he is. Sure, he’s young now. But he was sixty-seven years old the last time I saw him a few years ago. Before jumping into the past, that is. 

“I’m bloody ancient in slayer years!” I counter. “I mean, the average slayer dies well before the age of eighteen. It’s almost unheard of to be called after twenty. And the longest verifiable term is, what, eight years? I’m twenty-five, Giles.”

“Yes, well, be that as it may, need I remind you that Buffy managed to quite effectively bring the Council’s review to an end and get them to agree to her demands? What makes you think the additional training you suggest would have resulted in a more successful outcome?” He asks, moving some trash aside on a loading dock.

“Oh, don’t mistake me, Giles, I don't disagree with what she accomplished, or how she did it. The result was still what the council wanted, however.” 

“Oh?” He says, peaking behind a larger trash receptacle. 

“They came here hoping to shame Buffy into accepting them back. They wanted to prove to her how much she didn’t know, and thus how much she needed their help.” I tell him, resuming my search duties. “It almost worked, too.”

“And if Buffy had all the knowledge and skills you’ve deemed her to be lacking, you feel that would have provided a better outcome?” He asks, giving me a critical eye.

“Nope,” I pop the ‘p’ out of boredom. “She’d have proved she’s more than capable and taunted them into the same outcome.”

“Then what purpose would your suggestion serve?” I can tell he thinks he’s made a point.

“Oh, silly little things like ridding her of her self-doubt. Giving her less of an inferiority complex about her gifts and powers. Actually utilizing that brain, that made some amazing SAT scores if you’ll recall, to its full potential. Isn’t it some sort of unofficial watcher’s motto that knowing is always better?” 

It is rare that I have ever had the opportunity to leave Giles gobsmacked, but this is one of those times. Realizing he doesn’t have a good retort, he resumes his search for the missing Dawn. As Xander catches up to us and starts musing on the oddities of my Aunt being a mystical entity that’s thousands of years old, I announce that I’m going to skip ahead to the cemetery where we’re all supposed to meet and make sure there aren’t any bad guys about to interrupt us. 

In reality, I didn’t want to listen to uncle Xander musing about how Dawn has a crush on him yet again. But I also want to check in on my parents. My mother took the unusual route of pairing herself off with my father to search for Dawn. I’d fully anticipated her to pair up with me or Giles, so that was a bit of a pleasant surprise in and of itself. Is she starting to trust him finally?

On the way to the central scare grounds, it doesn’t take much for my enhanced hearing to pick up my mother shouting out Dawn’s name, and I have to laugh a little as I make a quick detour and get close enough to hear my father echoing my own thoughts on the matter of finding Dawn that way. 

“The nibblet scampered off to get away from you. She hears you bellowing, she's gonna pack it in the opposite direction. Can't say I blame her.” He tells my mother.

“You were right.” She admits, with no small amount of regret in her voice. “This is my fault. I should have told her.”

My father seems to pause a moment as if he’s looking for the right words. God’s I hope he doesn’t bollix this all up.

“Look,” He gives off a great sigh. “She probably would have skipped off anyway, even if she never found out.”

That seems to get my mother’s attention.

“She's not just a blob of energy, she's also a fourteen-year-old hormone bomb.” Another sigh as he shakes his head. “Which one's screwing her up more right now, spin the bloody wheel.”

My mother is now looking at him like she isn’t sure she’s hearing him right. Probably doesn’t recall just how damn insightful he can be. 

“You'll find her, just in the nick of time, that's what you hero types do.” He finishes.

And now she’s giving him a look that I’m not quite sure what to make of. Like she’s searching for something. The question is… what?

“You’ll find her,” He assures her as if he has no doubts at all. 

“And then what?” She asks him softly, demuring from the intensity of his gaze.

I’m dying to hear more, but I see my father’s head move a quarter turn in my direction. Oops. I slowly and silently back away and head off in the direction of the cemetery where we’re all supposed to meet. 

This is good. I know that they eventually get together and fall in love, and hence create me. Heck, it isn’t even all that far off in the future from now. Less than a year, in fact. But that’s what has me concerned. My mother has some very closely held beliefs that interfere with that happening. It obviously takes some major life and death stuff to shake her up enough to even consider looking twice at him. If I manage to stop her death, will they still get together and fall in love? Will I still be born?

At this point, I honestly wouldn’t mind if I’m not, as long as it saves the world. I’d rather they live and stop the First and its minions than watch the living nightmare of the not so slow demise of humankind, and the lessor demons as well. Definitely a trade-off I’m willing to make, and one I have considered. But does that also mean sacrificing the love they obviously had? The life and happiness they never got a chance to have? Honestly, I don’t know. I’d love to let them choose, but I’m not exactly sure how to do that at the moment. Not to mention, that would mean divulging a boatload of future events and then who knows how that’ll change everything. 

I’m broken from my musing by three pairs of people converging all at once on my location. It’s almost amusing how they all managed to meet up at exactly the same time. Except for Giles and Willow, punctuality isn’t exactly their forte. After everyone’s predictable report that Dawn was nowhere to be found, Buffy suggests we should check the hospital and everyone agrees.

This is what I’ve been waiting for! I finally get a shot at seeing the hell god responsible for my mother’s death. Well, her second one. I know she’s immortal and practically invulnerable, but even gods have their weaknesses. We just have to find hers. I’m hoping that the enhanced abilities from my combined slayer and vampire sides will give me a clue as to what that might be.

All the inquiries at the hospital turn up negative, but I recall that Giles mentions in his journals that Ben tried to help Dawn when Glory arrived. Or maybe before, they weren’t sure. So as everyone is contemplating leaving, I suggest that maybe she might seek out Ben since he seemed so nice to her when her mother was in the hospital. Right about then, hospital security comes barging rudely through talking about twisted off heads in the break room. Definitely sounds like our hell god.

It doesn’t take long to find Glory and Dawn, and Buffy goes into angry big sister mode. I’m almost in awe. I wonder what she would have been like when I was growing up? No time for that train of thought right now.

“Hey!” Glory faces us with a dazzling smile like she’d been expecting us for company. “We were just talking about you!”

Dawn, cleaver and quick, makes a break for it and manages to get behind all of us and out of Glory’s reach. 

“Conversation's over, hell-bitch,” My mother tells Glory.

Note to self, don’t ever seriously piss off mom.

My mother charges in, leading with a right hook and then a left, and follows it up with a right front kick to Glory’s abdomen. She ducks a wide swing from Glory, and then they’re grappling for position. My mother throws her up into a cabinet, but Glory gives her left kick and then a wicked right hook that sends her reeling. 

And suddenly my father is right behind Glory, wrapping her up and giving my mother a chance to get in a few punches. He’s making some tough talk, but that’s probably because he can’t see Glory’s face to know that she couldn’t care less that he’s got her wrapped up, and she’s still scoring some heavy kicks on my mother. 

Next thing I know, she’s tossing him off like an insect, smacking him around like a fledgling, and then gives him a headbutt for good measure before throwing him so hard he flies across the room and hits the tile so hard he’s knocked out. Which I note, interestingly, makes my mother looks a little concerned. 

“He wakes up?” Glory gets her attention, “Tell your boyfriend to watch his mouth.”

Well, so much for the concerned look. 

“He is not my boyfriend!” My mother stresses the ‘not’ quite forcefully. 

I check on my father as they resume their fighting. Damn, he’s not just out, that bitch really knocked him out cold. Now, I’m pissed.

Xander makes a brave break for Glory’s head with a crowbar right about the time Giles fires his crossbow at her, both of which just seems to piss her off. Xander’s lucky she doesn’t snap his neck as she seizes the crowbar from him and then tosses him across the room into Giles. She threatens to start killing everyone, starting with Dawn, and throws the crowbar like a javelin at her. My mother makes a flying dive, taking the makeshift spear to the chest just a few inches up and to the left of her heart. 

OK, now, I really damn angry. 

“Dezvăluie-mă!” I command as I stand up, disengaging my veil and letting my demon side come out to play. I need all my senses and abilities right now and don’t give a shite if she senses what I am. I barely register my mother’s gasp as she pulls the crowbar out of her chest. It’s the hell-bitch I’m focused on as she also gives a shocked, and very nearly orgasmic style, gasp.

“Hold the phone!” She spins to face me, grinning madly. “Where on earth did they dig you up, sweetheart? Haven’t seen one of you in a dog’s age! Don’t suppose you do any freelance?” 

I charge at Glory with a roar and a full burst of speed before sending a spinning left back fist right into her face, knocking her into the opposite wall. 

“Ow!” She gives me a look of disbelief. “I actually felt that you little twerp!” 

She steps to the side as I stalk towards her, dancing just a little outside my reach and looking minutely shaken.

“Now, let’s talk about this!” She holds her hands up, shooting me a dazzling smile. “We could make really great partners, you and I!” She says. “And I can definitely make it worth your while. See, I’m needing someone to track down my key and…”

“Sorry,” I send her a wicked grin. “You’re not going to be alive long enough to find it!” I growl out as I charge once again, leading with a left hook, and pounding her with a series of crosses, hooks, and uppercuts. 

“Jeeze, you act like I kicked your puppy or something,” She says, more annoyed and confused than anything, as she throws a sharp right to my ribs. “Or maybe the vampire was your boyfriend?” 

Willow waves to me not so subtly as I’m pounding away, taking a few hellacious blows in return, but my speed and training is helping avoid far more than she’s landing, while I'm landing most of mine. Still, I know I can’t take her on my own. And particularly not with half the group injured or concussed. Better to let Tara and Willow send her off to who knows where, and let everyone regroup. 

“You…” Right cross, right hook kick.

“Are going to…” Left uppercut, front kick.

“Pay…” Right roundhouse.

“For hurting them!” Right back fist, which puts her smack in between Willow and Tara.

They promptly throw the magic dust over her head and continue chanting.

“Bye!” I give her a wicked, rather self-satisfied, smile.

“Discede!” Willow commands, and then promptly collapses. 

But Glory’s gone.

“Ascunde-mă,” I drop the smile and shrug off of my demon as I once again engage my veil.

I quickly step over to Willow and make a show of helping Tara set her up as I quietly whisper out, "Tămăduieşti-o," and watch with satisfaction as her nose stops bleeding and she gives me a confused look. I ignore it, giving Tara a tight smile and reassuring her that Willow will be fine.

I turn to take stock of everyone else. My mother is helping Dawn stand up, my father is finally awake and looking confused, Xander is standing there staring at me with his mouth hanging open, and Giles is looking at me with that incredibly disconcerting frown of angry incredulity that he’s so good at. 

Well crap.

“Hope...?” Giles starts his question but doesn’t finish.

“Hey!” My mother interrupts. “Um, I… I know everyone probably has a whole lot of questions,”

“Buffy…” Giles impatiently interrupts her.

“But,” My mother keeps on going, her tone of voice broaching no arguments. “It’s been a really long day, and Dawn is hurt, so I need to get her home.”

“Buffy… I think…”

“Tomorrow, Giles!” She once again takes command. “Tonight, we just all need to go home and be thankful everyone’s ok… mostly.” 

I send her a look of immense thanks as she puts her arm around Dawn and leads her out, followed by Xander, still staring at me as he goes. Giles, however, just stands there resolute and I have no doubt he plans to ignore Buffy and start questioning me as soon as she’s out of earshot.

“Wonder if the blood bank restocked today?” I hear my father say a little too loudly as he ambles out the door.

By the god’s, I could almost hug him.

“Oh, no, you don’t! You are not hitting the blood bank on my watch!” I say as I take off after him.

I can’t help the easy laugh as I hear the string of curses that Giles lets fly. 

Tomorrow, there will be hell to pay. But today, I’m calling it a win.


	32. Chapter 31

_March 15, 2005_

“I can’t believe you did that!” I say, storming into the apartment. 

“Well, she really left me no choice!” Giles argues. 

I had told Dawn that something like this would happen, but she was so certain that being Willa’s aunt would be enough to win her sole custody now that she was nineteen. 

“There’s always a choice, Giles,” I tell him as I set my bag on the table and head into the kitchen to make some tea. 

“Indeed, and in this case, it was the correct choice for Ophelia.” 

“She needs her family,” I urge him, as I begin filling the kettle. 

“And I don’t disagree. Dawn is the one who opted to stubbornly pursue sole custody of Ophelia and her assets, despite the better advisement of both you and myself.”

“Well, what did you expect her to do? You keep Willa so isolated and you train her like she’s a full-blown potential. She only wants what’s best for her.” 

“As do I!” His voice is edging up.

“Dawn just wants her to have a real childhood and not be raised as a slayer, and I happen to agree with her!” I practically slammed the kettle on the stove.

“She has a childhood,” He responds a little defensively. 

“Really? Because six hours a day of training isn’t my idea of having much of a childhood, even if you try to make it look like playing.” I give him my best hairy eyeball. “She’s only three, Giles!”

“The child is well beyond her years in intelligence and ability…”

“And what about emotionally, Giles? Or maturity?” I roll my eyes at him. “A child needs more than just knowledge and slayers need more than ability. Don’t get me wrong, I have nothing against some training in general, but she needs to be around other children her age, too. She needs to run and play, really play, with other children like a regular three-year-old, should. That’s all Dawn wants.”

“No, Dawn wants to remove Ophelia from the purview of the Council entirely and take her to goodness knows where.”

“Would that really be such a bad thing?” I ask him gently, watching as the kettle begins to lightly steam.

“Yes! Yes, it would!” He asserts. “Dawn isn’t prepared in the least to protect her, or train her, or do any of the things a child such as Ophelia needs. She has no means to provide for her, and no idea how to raise a child.” 

“And you do?” I point out. “Did Buffy? Do I? Did anyone before they really had to?” 

“Point taken,” He seems to concede after a brief moment of consideration. 

“So now what?” I ask him.

“Well, you heard what Dawn said. We all did.” He answers. “It’s really her own choice.”

“So we just let her leave? Walk out of Willa’s life for what could be years just because you weren’t willing to work with her?”

“I wasn’t willing to work with her?” He asks, a complete look of incredulity on his face. “I must have asked her a dozen times to work with us on this!”

“No!” I interrupt, moving the now whistling kettle off the burner. “I was not part of this ‘us’ you are talking about. I had no problem with Dawn having custody of Willa, and she was more than willing to let me continue teaching her as she gets older. You were the one who wanted everything on your own terms.”

“Really, Tara, the magic is the least of our worries,” He sighs. “Ophelia is a Dhampir. She has an inherent predilection to turn evil and must be protected from outside influences that could push her in that direction.”

“Tara!” Willa comes bounding into the kitchen, throwing her arms around my skirt and hugging my legs with almost bruising force. 

I hug her back. This is the way she greets me every time I come home. Wherever home is. For the last few months, it has been an apartment in Charlotte. Before that it was Cleveland. Before that it was Chicago. Prior to that, it was Memphis, and Austin, and Denver, and Phoenix. In all, we’ve been in nine places since we lost the battle of the Hellmouth. All of this in an effort to stay at least one or two steps ahead of the First and its army, and keep the demon world from finding Willa and figuring out who and what she is, among other things. 

The other reason we've moved around so much is that Giles and Wesley have tried to rebuild the council with the help of a few other Watchers who survived. They round up the new slayer when she is called and train her as much as possible, but they never seem to last very long. Apparently Buffy being a slayer for so long was pretty unusual. Which makes me fear for Willa. Is that what she’s facing just a few short years from now?

I pick up the smiling child and gently touch my forehead to hers in a semi-ritual of connection we’ve been doing for as long as I can remember. In this, she’s like any other child. She wants love and affection just like all of us. I give her tummy a little tickle, eliciting a riot of giggles as she squirms against me. Her hair is a mess. She doesn’t like anyone to brush it for her, not that I can blame her. Those curls can be quite a challenge to get through. Besides, who would ever want to bring tears to those big blue eyes of hers?

“I know you can’t see her aura, Giles, but there is absolutely nothing but goodness and innocence there. There is no predilection regardless of what you might think.”

“And when her other side comes out?”

“Any child can be sad or angry or frustrated, and she’s no different." I tap her on the nose. "She just has a few extra physical characteristics when that happens!” I tickle her again and am rewarded with even more giggles. 

“What’s a predilection?” She asks as I set her down. At three years old, she isn’t so small anymore and is getting harder to hold for very long.

“He just thinks your vampire side might get out of hand one day,” I tell her.

“Why?” She asks with confusion.

“Well, why don’t you ask him?” I suggest. 

This should be interesting. Giles has all sorts of convictions and attitudes when it comes to dealing with adults and slayers. But make him face a three-year-old who is way too smart for her age and just happens to be Buffy’s daughter, and he melts like a popsicle in the Arizona heat. 

Willa promptly marches over in front of him and looks up at him in a clear challenge. He returns her look… for about zero point four seconds... and then he gives out a huge sigh before he squats down on her level. 

“I just worry that one day when we aren’t around, someone or something might convince you that doing something bad is what you were meant for and what you might think it would be far more… fun… than doing what’s right,” He tells her with a warm smile and more gentleness than one would have thought him capable of ten minutes ago.

Willa places her hands on both sides of his face and just stares straight into his eyes for the longest time. She does this from time to time. I often wonder if she can see auras or perhaps has a bit of divination that she’s just not fully aware of yet. 

Finally, she just snickers and rolls her eyes in a far too expert manner for a three-year-old. 

“Silly Giles! I’m gonna be a slayer and slayers are good.” She assures him.

“Alright young lady,” I interrupt them. “Why don’t you run up and grab your laundry before we make some lunch?” I tell her. 

“Okay!” She happily obliges, skipping back towards her room.

“Say what you will, the child knows her duty and calling,” Giles quietly asserts as he stands up after she’s gone.

“But she’s isn’t a slayer. Not yet. That’s what Dawn tried to get you to understand. Willa isn’t going to be called for many years, if ever. We don’t even know if she ever will be. Why not let her be just a child while she still can be?”

“Because she isn’t just a child, she’s the child of a vampire and probably the greatest slayer who ever lived, and she is potentially the most powerful creature on this earth. That sort of power needs to be developed for good. You know it as well as I do.”

“I do. But there’s time, Giles. That’s all that Dawn wants for her… time to be a child.”

“Is that why Dawn was trying to convince everyone that she needed to take her away to where none of us could find her?”

“She was angry,” I try to plead her case.

“She’s always angry,” He rebuts. 

“Can you blame her?” I ask him.

“It’s been over three years!” He says with way more frustration than I would have thought he still carried after all this time.

“Three years or thirty, do you really think she’ll forget what you chose to do to Spike? Or that because of that choice Buffy died? And now she feels like you are trying to take Willa away from her as well. You can’t blame her for trying to hold on to her.”

“She made her choice, Tara. I didn’t tell her she had to leave. In point of fact, I begged her to stay. She is the one who said she can’t stay if she can’t have custody and say over Ophelia.”

“Because she can’t watch you take everything away from a happy, loving, playful, child and turn her into a machine.” I finish Dawn’s words that he conveniently left out.

“That’s completely absurd!” He responds. “I’m not turning her into a machine.” 

“Are you certain?” I ask him. 

“Don’t be silly,” He rolls his eyes. “I would never want that for Ophelia,” He looks almost guiltily away and towards the floor.

“You love her,” I point out the obvious. Whether it’s to myself or him, I’m not certain… maybe both.

“I do.” He runs a hand roughly over his face, giving what I’m sure was meant to be a very manly sniffle, before looking straight at me. “I can’t ever atone for my part in the death of her mother, or Spike for that matter. But I can see to it that I do everything in my power to ensure that Buffy’s child not only survives but actually thrives, despite all the efforts of the First Evil and the forces of darkness. I can and will make certain that Ophelia outlives every slayer ever known to have been called, and leaves a legendary legacy when she dies of old age... I owe her that.”

“Buffy or Willa?” I ask him.

“Both,” He answers, traces of tears forming in his eyes. 

His words answer a lot of questions I’d been wondering. Not that I hadn’t suspected the answers a long time ago.

“Giles?” 

“Hmm?”

“Just don’t forget that there’s a difference between being alive and living.”

And with that, I leave him to go find Willa and her laundry. I think my words got through. I know he means well, but he’s still fighting metaphorical ghosts that have long since left this plane of existence. I just hope Willa doesn’t end up being the price for that fight.


	33. Chapter 32

_January 23, 2001_

I ended up getting precious little sleep last night as I tried to figure out exactly what to tell everyone. Or more importantly, what not to tell them. I kept playing various arguments over and over in my head trying to figure out every possible conclusion so that I could be prepared. I debated all the pros and cons of revealing that I’m from the future. I debated all the possible outcomes from divulging exactly who I am, and also whether I should tell them who they are in the future. 

When we planned this little trip of mine, we knew that there was a distinct possibility that I would end up having to reveal my nature to the group, either intentionally or accidentally, and thus explain at least a few things. Bunu’ and I had a lot of discussions about this and talked out a few scenarios. In the end, his advice was as cryptic as ever as he said that he had faith that whatever the situation, I would do whatever was right at the time. I sure hope he was right.

I talked it over with my father a little last night as well. He offered to come with me today, but we ended up agreeing that it would probably raise more questions. Everyone already thought we were hanging out together a bit too much as it is, and I didn’t want to confuse the issues. I could tell that the answer hurt him a little. I reassured him that if I could, I would gladly tell anyone and everyone that he was my father, but it just wasn’t time yet. I also offered to tell him everything after the big group question and answer session.

What I didn’t tell him is that I would have loved to have him here. But a first-grade primer is harder to read than he is, and everyone would figure out that he’s known for a while now what I was. Then there would be more questions, and his growing affinity for the group would preclude what I am sure is his skilled resistance to torture. One look, the right look, from my mother and his resistance would crumble to bits.

Speaking of reading, it’s interesting as I look around at the gathered faces as Giles locks all the doors. I had my mother ask him to do that, so I could be sure no one, or thing, evesdrops. My mother is fidgeting in a clear show of nervousness. I’m sure she’s worried that everyone is going to figure out she knew and didn’t tell them, and she isn’t sure how to answer for that. Aunt Anyanka is clearly doing busy work while trying to figure out what the heck is going on and why everyone is here for this big mystery meeting. Uncle Xander is both trying to look at me and trying not to look at me, all at the same time. He keeps staring at me, and then when I look at him, he looks away. I can practically see him berating himself for staring. Aunt Dawn is looking rather bored with it all. Aunt Willow is studying me and doesn’t seem to care if she gets caught doing so. She’s probably trying to figure out just how much magic I know and why I didn’t say anything about it. Aunt Tara is studiously trying to distract Aunt Willow from her thoughts. 

And then there’s Giles. Dear, sweet, studious, stuffed shirt, Giles. And that frown. He’s angry still. I don’t blame him. He feels betrayed. He’s wondering if I’m even really a slayer. He’s questioning everything I’ve told them. I’d be surprised if he got any sleep last night. He probably spent the entire night calling every contact at the council trying to covertly figure out who and what I am. Of course, he probably didn’t get very far, no matter how many calls he made. There’s a reason my cover was that specific watcher and potential. Still, I’ve broken his trust, and that’s difficult at best to get back. 

But he’s also the one I need to target here. The rest will believe whatever and move on. Giles, though, won’t let anything go. He’ll worry it to death until he’s certain that he’s got the right of it, and then there’s no telling him otherwise. But there’s a bigger issue. I need to retrain them all to get them out of the whole council dogma. I have to do it right, though. If they get too trusting, then they get cozy with the wrong vamp and get eaten. If I can’t sway them enough to see at least a little bit of the grey zone, then I might as well give up on my future right now. 

Because I’m also here to save Thomas. Saving Thomas isn’t an official mission goal. It isn’t something I should probably even be thinking about. I might change things so much here that I don’t ever meet him. Heck, he might not even ever get sired, who knows? But if I can at least take their feet off of the dark path it’s set on now, then maybe I can not only save them some misery and anguish, but I can possibly also save both my father and Thomas. But is this group ready for that?

“So,” I start, rising from my spot on the ladder. “Now that everyone’s here, let’s get started.”

“Yes,” Giles answers as he takes up a position by the counter. “I’d like…”

“No offense, Giles,” I interrupt, catching him off guard. “But, I’m going to do this my own way.”

“I don’t think I’ll be letting you calling the shots today, Hope. If that is even your name.” He answers. 

“You’re angry with me, and it’s completely fair for you to be. But this is extremely personal, physically hazardous, and more than a little emotionally painful for me. So I’m certain you will understand if I tell you that I need you to let me tell my own story and that if you will listen it will probably answer most of your questions.”

Giles looks like he’s about ready to explode, but after a moment he nods his head just the slightest in acquiescence. 

“Let’s just get one thing out of the way,” I say, allowing my demon to slide forward. “You weren’t imagining things during the fight with Glory.”

Dawn, gives a little gasp followed by a statement about how cool it would be to have eyes like mine.

“Oh…” Anyanka pipes up. “Oh! Oooooooh,” She turns to uncle Xander. “That’s why you think she’s a demon!” 

“Well, yeah! Because she is!” He insists, waving his hand up and down in my direction as if my appearance explains everything. 

“Pppfffttt… She’s as much slayer as she is demon,” She dismisses him and turns back to face me. “You’ll have to excuse him. He’s never seen a Dhampir before.”

“A what here?” Uncle Xander asks, confused.

“Please,” I interrupt, putting my demon away while noting that Giles couldn’t possibly have rolled his eyes any harder when Anyanka divulged what I am. “I’ll explain everything.”

“Most of what I’ve told you is true. I was raised by my watcher, with the help of my aunts and uncles. My parents were killed before I was even old enough to remember them. Hope is my nickname, given to me by my grandfather. My birthday is August 25th and I’m 25 years old. I am a slayer, just like Buffy…”

“Not just like Buffy,” Giles interrupts, daggers still shooting from his eyes.

“You’re right,” I nod my head in concession. “I’m more than just a slayer.” I pause to give everything I’ve said a moment to sink in. I want them to internalize that not everything I’ve said is a lie. “I am a slayer, though. I’m just as alive and breathing as all of you. I have a human soul. But I’m not only a slayer. I’m also half vampire.”

Chaos erupts. It’s almost amusing to watch. Dawn is utterly fascinated. Willow and Xander are confused as heck and debating back and forth about Blade. Anyanka is wondering why everyone else is so shocked. My mother is trying to look shocked and not guilty, and Tara is trying to tell everyone that they should all give me a chance to explain. Giles, meanwhile, is staring me down with a deadly serious look.

“That’s impossible,” He asserts as the chaos starts to die down. 

“You’re not serious?” Anyanka turns to face Giles. 

“What do you mean?” He asks her, confusion clouding his face.

“Dhampir aren’t impossible,” She clarifies. “Just improbable. Not to mention forbidden.”

“F-forbidden?” Tara asks.

“Yes, very much so,” Anyanka answers, turning back towards the group. “In both the demon and human worlds. The council has absolutely forbidden them for hundreds of years.”

“The council?” Giles repeats. “The council’s position is that there is no such thing as Dhampir. The - the rumors of such creatures were just… well, stories made up to explain unintended pregnancy, stillbirths, death in childbirth, and the like. They’re nothing more than folk tales made up to explain to the unknown.”

“Well, that sure wasn’t always their position,” Anyanka turns back toward Giles.

“What do you mean?” Giles asks her.

“She means,” I interrupt their side discussion, trying to get back on track. “That Dhampire can only occur under special circumstances.”

“What sort of circumstances?” Dawn asks. 

“I’m glad you asked,” I smile at her. “What do you know about how vampires were originally created?”

“Not much of anything?” She answers.

“Buffy?” I ask.

“Um, ok, don’t quote me here, but I think the last pure demon to leave the earth mixed its blood with a human, and thus making the first vampire?”

“Correct. Except it wasn’t the last demon or even one demon.”

Giles starts to interrupt, but I hold my hand up to silence him. 

“Many different pure demons once inhabited the earth, different ones residing in different areas. Several of them, like Maloker and Archaeus, mixed their blood with humans well before they were banished, creating the demon half-breeds that we now call vampires. For thousands of years, there were many different kinds of vampires, each with their own attributes based upon the demon that originally created them. Not all of them were considered purely evil, either. Some of the deities and demons of various world religions are actually based on these vampires. So just like the cultures they resided in, the vampires themselves were different.”

“What do you mean, ‘different’?” Xander finally speaks up again.

“Well, take my features, for example.” I shift to game face again. “My eyes are bluish-white, my fangs are smooth, and my face does shift but it is so slight that most people can’t detect it.” I shift back to my regular face. “Some species were inherently better with manipulating magic, some could tolerate sunlight, some require more than a simple stake to the heart to kill, things like that.”

“Dracula!” My mother blurts out. “That’s why I couldn’t kill him!”

“And the lady wins a prize!” I smile at her. “Dracula is a different breed of vampire than what you are used to dealing with. He’s the last of his kind, in fact. Although there were many different species of vampires running around over the millennia, eventually, much like humans, one species came to predominate while the others eventually died out. My father was, unbeknownst to him, the last of one particular species that were able to breed with humans.”

“Like Dracula's species!” Anyanka offers helpfully. “I dated his second son,” She tells everyone with no small amount of pride.

“Really?” I ask her. Of course, she did. 

“Oh yes! He was quite the catch back in the dark ages,” She preens a little.

“This is really all completely preposterous!” Giles announces. “You can’t expect us to sit here and believe that anything you are saying is remotely correct or even holds some small amount of truth to it!” 

“It gets worse,” I tell him.

“I don’t see how it possibly can,” He retorts but lets me continue. 

“While certain species of vampire could technically breed with humans, the offspring are supernaturally strong from the beginning. Human mothers never survived the pregnancy unless they were somehow supernaturally strong themselves.”

“You mean slayers…” Willow, eyes wide, is the first to put all the pieces together. 

“Or a lucky potential,” I smile at her. 

“Your watcher..." My mother seems to be putting a few pieces together herself.

“Was actually my mother’s watcher.” I finish her thought.

Giles’s jaw drops like a rock, and he stumbles forward and drops into a seat at the table.

“My parents met and fell in love. Deep, deep, love, much to her watcher’s dismay. When they found out they were surprisingly expecting, they told her watcher. He wasn’t aware of Dhampir either, having been taught the same council line that we were all nothing more than a myth. But he did what any good watcher does, and left no stone unturned in his research. He learned that, as Anya mentioned, Dhampir are indeed very real and very much forbidden. Historically speaking, the mother and or child are usually hunted down and killed. He kept the nature of my mother’s pregnancy a secret from the council, fearing they might send a wet works team after her or the baby.”

“Is that how your parents died?” Dawn asks with more sympathy than one would think a 14 year old capable of exhibiting.

“No,” I draw in a shuddering breath. “My father was captured by vampire hunters. They knew what my mother was, and believed the lie that a vampire can't truly love, nor choose to do good. They thought that we were nothing more than an obsession to him, and that in order to keep my mother and me safe they needed to dust him. My mother found out about their plan and nearly died trying to get to him to save him, but she was too late. She, uh, died several weeks later from her injuries.”

“Oh, Hope…” Anyanka puts a hand to her mouth, clearly a little overcome by my story. “I’m so sorry!” She waves her hand around her face, trying to ward off the tears threatening to spill from her eyes. Then she gets up and comes around the table to hug me.

“Vampires can love?” Dawn asks, looking around at everyone.

“No.” “Of course!” The two answers ring out at the same time from opposite ends of the table. 

“Vampires can and do love,” I gently insist. 

“They have no soul,” Giles retorts.

“No human soul, you mean?” Anyanka asks.

“What?” Giles seems caught off guard.

Anyanka gives him an exasperated look. “You think only those with human souls are capable of love, don't you?”

“Well…” Giles fish mouths a second or two. “Yes?” He answers hesitantly and with an uncomfortable grimace.

“Just because their souls aren’t human doesn’t mean they can’t love! Demons have feelings! They love! Lots of demons love their children! And their mate! I can’t believe you’d be so closed-minded!” Anyanka answers him with a lot of exasperation and a little bit of disgust. “Do you all feel that way about all demons?”

Except for Tara and me, everyone either gives her a sheepish look or becomes suddenly engrossed in something on the table. 

“I can’t believe all of you! I need to be somewhere else right now!” Anyanka’s words grind out as she stomps off to the training room and slams the door shut.

Uncle Xander makes a few gestures and excuses and rushes off after her. Everyone else looks slightly contrite and avoids looking at each other. 

“You know, you all don’t give her nearly enough credit,” My voice breaks the silence. “She’s been alive for over a thousand years. Seen entire empires rise and fall. She has more lived experience than the whole council put together... for the last 500 years. You really should listen to her more. One day, she might not be there to ask.”

Everyone seems to digest that for a moment.

“So, what happened after your parents died?” Dawn asks, ever the curious one.

“Well, after my mother died, her watcher became my watcher and he raised me like any other potential. Everyone learned how to use a veil to keep demons and magically attuned humans from detecting what I was, to keep me safe.”

“And the magic?” Willow asks. I was wondering when she’d get around to it. 

“Apparently some of us have a natural talent for it. Much like how some vampires have a gift for thrall or some humans, like yourself, have a gift for magic. I had an aunt who was quite powerful and she taught me everything she knew, including the laws of magic and when and how to use it.”

“Not that this isn’t all really fascinating,” My mother cuts in before Willow can ask more questions. “But, how were you able to hurt Glory? I mean, she bats the rest of us off like we’re gnats.”

“Honestly, I was wondering that myself,” I tell her. I need to tread very carefully here. “I don't think I really did hurt her. But, best I can figure, it was a combination of catching her off guard when I dropped my veil and getting waled on by you and Spike.”

“She did seem to be pretty distracted when you went all fangy,” Tara adds her observation.

“That’s right!” Willow adds. “She was wanting you to help her find the key.”

“Yes,” Giles finally speaks up again. “Glory seemed to know you are weren’t just another slayer. Care to explain exactly how that was possible?”

“Easy-peasy!” I smile at him. “Dezvăluie-mă.” 

My veil drops like a rock and my mother gives a not so subtle gasp and rubs her arms as goosebumps visibly erupt. 

“Ascunde-mă,” I command, slipping my veil back in place, and my mother visibly relaxes. 

“How did you do that?” My mother asks, slightly awed. 

“Apparently Dhampir give off some sort of unique supercharged mystical vibe,” I shrug. “Early warning system, or something. Every demon, slayer, and even some magically attuned humans, can feel me coming. Hence the veil.”

“And Glory could sense that through the veil?” Willow asks.

“No. Not even Glory could sense what I was when my veil was up.”

“Why did you drop it?” Giles asks. 

“The veil doesn’t just make it so that others can’t sense what I am. It has to be virtually impenetrable, so it also actually dulls my senses a little, too. I dropped it so that I could have full use of all my senses. I was hoping I might pick up a weakness or something.”

“And did you?” He asks.

“Unfortunately, no. Nothing specific anyway. There’s something that’s tickling at the back of my brain, I just haven’t figured out what it is.”

“And you detected this how?” His curiosity is apparently peaked.

“We may not have much in the way of strength or speed over regular slayers," I lie. "But we do have enhanced senses.”

“That’s why she wanted you to help her track the key,” Willow surmises.

“Supposedly we can track just about anything.” I shrug again.

“I can see why demons might not like that,” Tara offers. 

“Or humans,” I add. “We’re basically slayers who are also bloodhounds. Human’s have enough difficulty adjusting to supernaturally strong little girls. Imagine if they can also sniff out your lost house key and get a little fangy on occasion? Humans fear what they don’t understand.”

“So, do you know any other Dhampir?” Dawn asks. 

Yes. And no. Connor is essentially a mystically created Dhampir, but he won’t even be conceived until several weeks from now.

“I know of them,” I hedge. “There was a slayer in the dark ages who was burned at the stake that I suspect was a Dhampir. It supposedly took her forever to die, and she had a few other signs. Anya mentioned one she dated. Dracula reportedly had a handful of children, his last son being born in the late 1800s to a potential whose watcher was part of a rather famous family of watchers and vampire hunters.”

“Van Helsing,” Giles chimes in with interest. “You’re asserting Quincey Harker was a Dhampir?” 

“Yes. The book doesn’t mention it, but Dracula was able to do far more with Mina Harker than bite her and complete a blood exchange.” I see my mother’s hand unconsciously cover the bite Dracula gave her.

“Mina wasn’t suffering from ingesting Dracula’s blood, she was pregnant with a Dhampir. Once he figured that out, Van Helsing concocted the story and took Mina away to protect both her and the unborn child. Mina didn’t suddenly get better because Dracula died, obviously; she got better because she gave birth. Van Helsing later contracted with Stoker to write the novel, scrambling up the timeline and events a bit, so the world would know all about vampires and how to kill them. He figured if he couldn’t permanently kill Dracula, at least he could drive him into hiding and thus protect the virtue of all the other fair young maids and maidens. Mina died when Quincey was just three years old, having never been called as a slayer.”

“You can’t possibly be certain of any of that, unless…” Giles gives me his best hairy eyeball.

“Unless I happened to read the secret journals kept from the council?” I ask him. "I told you my watcher left no stone unturned." Glad I thought about this as a potential argument last night. Not like I can tell him I got the whole scoop from Mina herself. The council supposedly never knew she was turned and she'd prefer to keep it that way. 

“And I don’t suppose you still have these journals?” He asks suspiciously.

“Gods how I wish I did!” I roll my eyes at him. “If only so I could prove the whole story to you. I burned them when I was nine years old.”

Giles stutters out some undignified noises. 

“I know, I know, what can I say? Between puberty and being sequestered my whole life I was a little resentful and burning them seemed like a good idea at the time. I mean, what worse revenge could you think of for a watcher than burning his books?"

“You really were sequestered?” My mother asks, a trace of sadness and curiosity in her voice.

“I really was,” I answer. “I was angry for a while when I was little, but eventually I understood that it was all done to protect me. And it worked. I’m still alive after all.”

“But what kind of life is that?” She asks.

“It wasn’t all bad. Once I got into my teens things got a lot better. I was able to go to the movies, hang out with other kids, and I even got to date. I think that aged my watcher more than all the other stuff,” I smile at Giles. 

“I can only imagine,” He answers. 

Oh, but I don’t have to imagine. Not at all. Which brings me back around to…

“So, now we all know that much like the whole myth that vampires can’t love, the non-existence of Dhampir is also a myth. Both are very real. Uncommon, but real.”

“Maybe being able to love was part of their species? Like their ability to have children?” Willow posits. Not a bad thought even if it is incorrect. "Some sort of evolutionary protection that other species lost with the ability to procreate? Er, well, in the old fashioned sense, that is."

“That’s certainly something to consider,” Giles opines.

Well, that wasn’t an argument I was prepared for. I can’t think of everything, after all. Although, I might be able to use that to crack the door on the idea. Or at least to save my father. Some food for later thought.

“So, now everyone knows all about me. And you understand a little bit about why I hid what I am. I’m not only a 25-year-old slayer, but I’m also a highly forbidden Dhampir. So if word got out, not only would the council come hunting me down for multiple reasons, but the demons would stop at absolutely nothing to kill me. I’d prefer to not die a horribly gruesome death any sooner than I’m destined. Or have anyone else get hurt in the crossfire. You all are too important to me to let that happen.”

“I-I think those are pretty valid reasons,” Tara offers. “Though, I h-hope you know n-now that you can trust us to keep your secret safe?” 

“I do,” I nod and send her my warmest smile and am graced with her own warm smile in return. One I’ve missed for longer than I wish it were. “I get that now. It’s kind of nice. I’m so used to having to depend on myself so much, I’d forgotten what it’s like.”

“What what's like?” Dawn asks. Such innocence.

“Family,” I answer, feeling tears start to well up.

Even if I’m not able to change a single thing about the future, if I never fulfill my mission or figure out my destined duty, this has been an amazing gift of unbelievable proportions. To have these moments with these people… my family… well, it’s enough to make even a pretty stoic person cry.

And suddenly I’m enveloped by three sets of arms as Dawn, Tara, and my mother are hugging me. Then Willow joins in. And suddenly we all lurch a bit to the side as Anyanka appears out of nowhere and exuberantly joins the group hug while the manly men stand off to the side.

“So, I guess we’re all ok now?” Uncle Xander stage whispers to Giles.

“Nope,” My mother answers him. “We’re better than ok. We’re family.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I have taken a few liberties with Stoker's novel and the Dracula mythology. Partially to bring it into some compliance with the Buffyverse vampire mythology, and partially to fit the purposes of the story.


	34. Chapter 33

_April 12, 2009_

You know, it continues to amaze me how much people still go on acting as if nothing in this world has changed. As if we haven’t all been sort of herding ourselves into these bigger cities like London. As if there aren’t a bunch of deranged demons and minions of the First trying to exterminate humans and not-so-evil demons from the planet. As if everything that happens every day is just a perfectly normal thing that happens.

Take, for instance, the six-year-old currently scaling down the side of the three-story building across the street. As I stand here watching her shimmy, slide, and jump, a dozen people or so walk right on by glancing up and then making a point to look anywhere else but at her. See, you would think that as we humans are getting wiped out, people might be more concerned by the site of a six-year-old little girl climbing down the side of a building, but it seems the opposite is true. The more weird things get, the more they pretend they aren’t getting any weirder. 

As I head across the street, I can’t help but admire that for a six-year-old she’s got some pretty impressive skills for climbing out of windows and down buildings. Then again so did her mother. Well, not at six, I don’t think, but definitely at sixteen. This is the third time she’s been caught, though. Good thing I decided to come home for lunch instead of staying at the worksite because it doesn’t look like anyone else has noticed yet that she’s managed to sneak out again. 

“You might want to jump from there so you don’t end up in the thorn bushes,” I tell her as I walk up and stand almost right below her. She’s only about eight feet off the ground, which isn’t much of a challenge for her these days.

She freezes for a couple of seconds, turns her head and looks at me, and then says a word or two that passes for the equivalent of swearing in a six-year-old’s world. 

“Push off and I’ll catch you,” I tell her.

“I don’t need you to catch me, Uncle Xander,” She sounds upset.

“Too late.” I can’t help but smile up at her.

“Just move, ok?” She says.

I nod, sliding my hands into my pockets, as I step back a couple of feet.

She heaves a sigh and then pushes off and sticks an Olympics worthy landing that looks about as effortless as breathing. She turns around and faces me, crossing her arms in the process, and affecting the cutest little pout, with her bottom lip sticking out, her blackish brown curls falling over half her face, and her bright blue eyes hold just the tiniest hint of tears in them.

“You know, I lived with both your mom and your dad, and have years of experience at becoming immune to the Summers pout. Didn’t work for your mom, your aunt, or your dad.”

“My dad didn’t pout,” She gets defensive, sucking her lip back in and getting that angry little gleam in her eyes.

“Your dad could so pout. Granted, he didn’t do it often, but he did do it.”

“Vampires don’t pout!” She stomps. 

“And yet… you sure do make a good show of it,” I tease her.

“I’m not a vampire,” She mumbles. 

“No, just half. So please tell me that at least this time you remembered your veil before climbing out the window?” I ask her.

Her comically widened eyes tell me that she did not, in fact, remember to use her veil, but she quickly says the short little spell Tara taught her. 

“So, Phe,” I tell her as I start walking away from the door instead of toward it. “Care to tell me where we’re going?” 

She quickly catches up to me and falls in step. 

“The park,” She softly admits. 

Poor kid. She really does just want to be a normal kid, no matter how much she knows she’s anything but.

“You know, your mother wanted to be a normal kid, too,” I tell her as I start heading towards the nearby park. 

“She did?” She asks, seeming a little hesitant. 

“For a while there, yeah.” I nod. “And then she decided that being normal was overrated. Why be normal when you can be extraordinary?” 

“I just wanted to go play with Valerie,” She says with more than a little bit of a whine in her voice. 

“She’s the little blond from next door, right?” I ask her, getting a nod of confirmation.

“She doesn’t think I’m weird,” She says.

“Not very observant, is she?” I tease her again. “Weird is a good thing, Phe. I know it doesn’t seem like it now, but it’ll be a huge thing in your favor when you’re bigger.”

“Really?” She’s back to pouting.

“Really,” I tell her. “Your mom was all sorts of weird, and she was the coolest person in the world!” 

She sighs deeply, and I detect the smallest little tremble. 

“I know you hate being cooped up, but it’s for your own good.”

“I know,” She answers.

“I’m not sure you really do,” I tell her. “I mean, you snuck out without thinking to use your veil. What if there were demons near the park? We’ve talked about what would happen if any demons figured out what just who and what you are. I don’t mean to scare you, but being a kid isn’t any protection from what the demons would do if they found out about you. In fact, they’d probably think you being a kid makes killing you a lot easier.”

“I can fight!” She gets defensive again.

“Yeah, you can,” I stop and turn to face her, squatting down on her level. “You’re even pretty good at it. Your mom was probably the best slayer that ever lived, but even she couldn’t take on everything by herself. And even Big Bad Spike got his tail end handed to him several times. Usually by your mother.” 

She giggles a bit, and I reach out and ruffle her hair. She wiggles out of my reach and runs her fingers through her hair while grumbling about me messing it up. 

We reach the park and I let her run off to the playground, with a caution that we’ve only got about twenty minutes before we’ve got to head back. I make a quick call to Tara to tell her that I’ve got Phe down at the park and we’ll be back soon. 

As I lean against a nearby tree, I can’t help but think how relatively normal she seems. She’s running around and laughing and playing tag with some other kids. She’s happy. She looks just like every other kid on the playground for the most part. Too bad she isn’t just like every other kid on the playground. 

I don’t know many kids that can read Giles’s books and then recite them word for word. Or kids that can scale three-story buildings like they are a jungle gym at the playground. Or already has enough strength at six to pound me into pulp if she got angry enough. Or that have the cutest little fangs. Though, I don’t think anyone has seen her fangs in a few months, even when she’s angry. I think she’s trying to keep them hidden.

Though, that might change this afternoon. After the last time that she got out without anyone knowing, Giles and Tara decided that if it happened again they were putting bars on the windows. Not that I think they’d actually stop her if she really wanted out, but bending them might be loud enough for one of us to hear her and intervene.

I wish there was a different way to keep her safe, but I haven’t figured out what it is. Even Tara agrees with Giles now that putting her in school wouldn’t be safe, and besides, she’d probably be even more of an outcast as smart as she is. She’d be the only six-year-old in sixth grade. 

And once people start getting more cautious about anything that even looks close to demony, she’s really going to be in danger. I mean, heck, Anya can go full demon in a deli granting a vengeance wish and no one blinks an eye. But I think Willow’s right, and people are going to eventually start getting more and more paranoid about any kind of demon activity. Right now, we’re all starting to live together and act like we don’t know the next-door neighbor is half Bracken. Three years from now, the neighbors might show up with pitchforks and torches looking for said Bracken.

I glance at my watch and notice our twenty minutes are up. Time sure does seem to fly the older I get. I wave to Phe and watch as her face goes from full-on happy kiddo to sad with a side of resignation. 

We walk back to our place in silence. The closer we get, the slower her steps. I know she’s dreading going back inside. Probably not just because she wants to be outside playing, but because she knows she’s going to be in a whole lot of trouble, too. 

She stops on the steps in front of the door, and I turn to see that she’s looking down at the ground, with tears rolling down her face. I hadn’t even heard her start crying.

“I-I don’t want to go back in, Uncle Xander.” Her voice is almost a whisper. 

“I know,” I put a hand on her shoulder. “But you snuck out… again… and there’s no getting out of facing it.” 

“No… not…” She sighs. “I don’t want to go inside.”

Oh. 

“I know it was wrong,” She says, tears falling faster now. “But I just don’t want to be in there anymore. Why can’t I go outside like other kids? Just keep my veil up. Or we could go somewhere there’s no people or demons. I just…” 

“Don’t want to be stuck inside?” I finish her statement for her. 

She nods vigorously.

“Oh, kiddo,” I sit down on the step next to her. “I wish I could tell you that you could run around out in the open all day any time you wanted to.”

“Why can’t I?” She asks, even though I know she already knows the answer to that question. But somehow, I don’t think that’s the question she’s really asking. 

“You know,” I begin. “I can’t even imagine what it must be like to have all the powers you do. Or what it’s like to be half slayer and half vampire. Or to live in the shadow of your parents, without having ever known them. Or to be hiding all your life because half the world wants you dead. But I do know a couple of things.”

I give her a second to see if she’s going to say anything. She doesn’t, so I keep going.

“I know that you are the coolest, smartest, strongest, and most beautiful little girl I’ve ever met. And that as hard as things are now, before long you’ll suddenly be all grown up. You’ll probably go to college, fall in love, and you’ll be really happy. And then, one day, maybe before that or maybe after, you’re going to save the whole world. We just have to keep you safe in the meantime.”

She nods, sniffling back her tears. I stand up and turn around just in time to see Tara looking out of the window next to the door. She mouth’s a silent thank you, and I nod. 

Phe gives out a sigh that’s way too big for any six-year-old to be feeling. But she’s not just any six-year-old. 

The door slowly opens, and standing there is Tara. A stern look on her face that makes even me want to apologize, and I’m not the one who just climbed out a window. 

I put a steadying hand on Phe’s back and give her just enough of a nudge to get her moving. She takes a few steps and then stops again, and suddenly turns and wraps her arms around me. She doesn’t say any words. She doesn’t need to. Then she lets go, straightens her shirt, and stands up a little taller and straighter, and marches through the door like she isn’t dreading or hating it at all. 

And I could swear at that moment that I really could see Buffy again.


	35. Chapter 34

_February 17, 2001_

Ugh! You’d think that finding an insane vampire wouldn’t be all that hard. Particularly one who, by all accounts, was traveling alone. After all, Darla is still hanging around L.A. and about to seduce Angelus. So if Drusilla is here in Sunnydale, she’s alone. However, she’s been playing a hell of a game of cat and mouse, and so far I’ve only managed to save one of the people that I know she killed while visiting Sunnydale at this time.

I was waiting for her at the train station, and I should have been able to catch her there. But by the time I made it into the train car, she’d made it out and was just grabbing the train station employee. Luckily I managed to make it out to him in time and pull her off. He’s currently recuperating at Sunnydale Memorial, so at least that’s something. 

I spent the better part of the next day searching all over the place and still not actually finding her. It’s not that I haven’t been able to track her, rather she’s apparently been all over the bloody place and all at once, it seems. She’s smart and quick and cunning. Something is definitely up with this one. It shouldn’t surprise me though, I mean she is a seer. Which is probably why she’s always one step ahead of me. At least it isn’t five steps. 

I’ve had challenging quarry before. When your prey is intelligent and has a lot of survival instincts, it can certainly make you use all your skills. When they’re a seer, you have to be unpredictable and find a different way to play the game. You have to think ahead several steps. Which is why I decided to give up trying to track her and let her come to me instead. 

Which is how I got to hear my aunt telling my mother how much my father is totally into her. Well, at least Dawn is observant. I still can’t believe how oblivious my mother is to the whole thing though. Except for Dawn and Anyanka, they’ve all got the whole, “vampires can’t love” thing bad. I’d hoped my little speech or Anyanka’s would have made more of a dent. 

But at some point tonight, Drusilla joins up with my father and they end up feeding at or near the Bronze according to reports. Two bodies were found a couple of alleys away, with clear signs of neck trauma. So I figure that if I follow my father, then eventually I’ll find Drusilla. Or rather, she’ll find me. 

I’m not entirely sure what really happens on this night in history. Giles’s journal from this time just has some extremely barebones facts. Really nothing more than the fact that Spike declared his love for her and offered to stake Dru to prove it. Not much else. Which doesn’t exactly add up to me. But what do I know?

Which is how I ended up overhearing the whole not-a-date debacle. Talk about awkward and painful! For someone so intuitive and who seems to frequently know just the right thing to say, it was like his brain just completely abandoned him. I guess nerves will do that to you, but I didn’t expect that from him. And now the pain is pretty much rolling off of him in waves of tsunami proportion as he shuffles his way from the car to his crypt. I’m actually half shocked he didn’t hit a liquor store on the way home. I would have. 

And then BOOM! My vampire senses get an extra burst as I detect a very fresh trail left by the very vampire I’ve been hunting all this time. I speed ahead quickly circle the crypt outside to see if she’s waiting in ambush, but she isn’t. That means she’s inside, waiting for him. Do I slip inside, shield and veil intact, or wait out here? I’m thinking out here is better. And up. Less risk of getting caught. I can still hear everything if I focus. 

“A happy memory, pretty Spike.”

Dear lord! What the hell kind of accent is that? I guess when you’ve been around for a couple hundred years your accents get muddled. Look at Angelus. He’s Irish but has no trace of it in his voice. 

Ok, focus here! 

“Come back with me.” That’s Drusilla.

“To Los Angeles?” He sounds hesitant. “I've done the whole L.A. scene, Dru. Didn't agree with me.”

No, I would imagine not. Unless you’re into being double-crossed by the vampire you hired to torture someone. The demon archives were all over that little episode!

“Besides, I've got a sweet little setup here in Sunny-D. Decent digs... not to mention all the tasty townies I can eat.” 

What is he doing? Trying to impress the ex?

“Naughty! Shh. You needn't make up stories. I already know why you're not coming. Poor boy. Tin soldiers put funny little knick-knacks in your brain. Can't hunt! Can't hurt! Can't kill! You've got a chip.” 

That’s some pretty potent seer juice she’s got going on.

“Right, so you've heard. Poor Spike's become a cautionary tale for vampires, right? ‘You better be good, kiddies, or else they might wire you up someday!’"

Ouch. I can only imagine how hard that must be for him. But as much as I hate that thought, I can’t help but be grateful for it as well. How else would my parents have ended up pushed together and fall in love? Hopefully.

“I don't believe in science. All those bits and molecules no one's ever seen. I trust eyes and heart alone. And do you know what mine is singing out right now?”

Well, don’t keep us in suspense here, Drusilla.

 

“You're a killer. Born to slash ... and bash ... and... oh, bleed like beautiful poetry. No little tinker-toy could ever stop you from flowing.”

“Yeah.”

My senses send up a strong ping and I spin around in my perch atop the crypt to figure out who or what is approaching. And what to my wondering eyes would appear, but a Harmony Kendall. This should get interesting.

“But the pain ... love, you don't understand, it's ... it's searing. It's, um, blinding.”

Well, yeah, it would have to be to deter a vampire from any feeding or hurting.

“All in your head,” Drusilla responds.

Well duh, it isn’t in his arse!

“I can see it. Little bits of ... plastic, spiderwebbing out nasty blue shocks. And every one is a lie. Electricity lies, Spike. It tells you you're not a bad dog, but you are.”

Um, I… I don’t think most of that made sense. It shocks him when he’s being bad, so therefore the electricity would be, in fact, telling him he’s a bad dog. If he were a dog. Why is she calling him a dog anyway if she’s trying to get him to come with her? 

“What the heck is this?” Harmony’s shrill voice cuts into the brief silence.

“Oh, bloody hell.”

Got that right, dad.

“Who is... Oh, wait, I get it. Our little sex game was just the beginning. Now you've gone and picked up some cheap queen of the damned to dress up like your precious Droodzilla.”

Dear lord! She really is a bit dense. Wait… sex game? With Harmony? Ew!

“Harm!” 

Apparently even he didn’t want to hear about it.

“You'd better not be thinking what I think you're thinking,” Harmony chides him. “'Cause my answer is the same as always. No threesomes unless it's boy, boy, girl. Or Charlize Theron.”

Charlize Theron?

“Harm, you moron,” My father couldn’t sound much more annoyed. “This *is* Drusilla.”

I stand corrected.

“Oh.” Harmony’s reply seems succinct. “Well, you've got some nerve showing up here like this. After all this time. After breaking my sweet boo-boo's heart.”

Boo-boo? I really need to get her out of Sunnydale and into a group of better vampires.

“Do you have any idea how hard it's been to break down the walls he put up after you left?” She asks, I’m assuming, Drusilla. “I mean, serious trust issues.”

“Harm…” My father interrupts her.

“So it's no use you crawling back to him, 'cause Spikey don't play that game anymore, Morticia.”

Oh… oh, no… she thinks… she thinks he’ll pick her over Drusilla? Oh, Harmony… 

I hear a scuffle from inside and then the sound of someone hitting one of the walls.

“It's been fun while it lasted, Harm, but I think it'd be best now if you hit the road.”

“Why?” Harmony’s voice is both whiny and petulant sounding. “Because she's back?”

“No. Because I am.” He answers.

“And there you are, my darling, deadly boy.” Drusilla fairly purrs out.

Oh Spike, no. This is like taking a hundred steps backward. I have to remind myself that everything is going to be ok. He overcomes this setback, obviously, or my parents wouldn’t have gotten together.

Harmony slinks out the door, obviously crying and rushing off to goodness knows where. If I didn’t need to catch Drusilla alone just long enough to take her out, I’d chase after Harmony and offer to get her set up with a nest who will take care of her until I can get her on the road to L.A. But I can’t let Drusilla keep running around town, and I can’t let my father by into her mind games or the comfort of familiarity. 

And now there’s all sort of noises coming from my father’s crypt telling me that I need to move further away for a while to preserve my own sanity, thank you very much. If it wasn’t such a once in a lifetime opportunity to dust Drusilla, I’d go ahead and chase after Harmony. But I can’t take that chance.

Twenty minutes later, my father and Drusilla come strutting out of his crypt like they’re the kind and queen of Sunnydale. The epitome of calm, cool, and utterly uncaring if anyone even exists. The predators are on the prowl. 

And bloody buggering hell if I’m not a bit gobsmacked. This is the person all the books talk about. This is the Big Bad that cuts swaths of murder and mayhem through Europe, Asia, and parts of the US. 

This… this is the person Giles tried to convince me was my father. 

And it makes my slayer side want to roar and go on the hunt. Good thing I learned a long time ago how to balance both sides. 

Good thing I know that this is the mask. A damn good one… but a mask. 

They stop by the park on the way to the Bronze, but due to the hour, there isn’t anyone there thank goodness. They prowl on through downtown and into the Bronze like they own the place. Within moments they’re on the dancefloor gather more than a little attention. Who wouldn’t notice them? It’s hard not to be drawn to that sort of power. 

Then I see it. The moment Drusilla spots their prey. A couple matching the description of the one found the next day is snogging hot and heavy up on the balcony. They look like they’re practically about to drop to the floor and shag themselves silly, making them easy pickings. 

With a burst of speed, I rush up the stairs and position myself right next to the couple, leaning on the railing and looking down at Drusilla and my father, right as she’s getting him to look at the quarry she’s found. I see the look in his eyes. The look of a predator ready to pounce. And then I drop my shield and stare at him. 

The look on his face goes from focused predator to questioning hesitance to dismay to, dare I say, shame over the space of about four seconds. He freezes his movements on the dancefloor and stares up at me. 

Drusilla turns and says something to him, but he shakes his head and stomps off in the direction of the entrance, exuding far less cool than when he came in. She turns and looks up at me, a curious look on her face that is equal parts amusement and challenge. In another life, I think I might have liked her. You know, if it weren’t for the whole murdering vampire who prefers children thing.

With a lopsided smirk, she puts on her own burst of speed and vanishes before my eyes. Time to get moving.

I throw my shield back up and manage to catch up with her not long after she’s caught up with my father. She’s carrying on about pixies and time to teach the slayer to respect her Spike. That she’ll take care of him so he can heal the blue shocks, just like he found “daddy” to fix her. I’m assuming she’s talking about the whole Du Lac Cross incident.

He’s telling her to sod off and head back to torture Angelus in L.A. but she’s having none of it.

About halfway back to the crypt I pick up the scent of my mother, also heading in the direction of my father’s crypt. Recently, too. We’re only minutes behind her. I extend my senses to the fullest they will go with the shield up, but I don’t pick up her immediate presence. She’s got to be at the crypt waiting for him. Maybe she thought over the whole thing from earlier and came to talk? One can hope. 

As my father roughly pushes open the door to his crypt and stomps inside, Drusilla stops and turns to look over her shoulder in my direction. I freeze. She gets the tiniest little smile for a fraction of a second and then follows him inside, shutting the door behind her. 

I resume my earlier perch just in time to head my father ask my mother if she found anything interesting. She asks him hesitantly what’s going on, and then I hear what sounds like a cattle prod, if I’m not mistaken, and the sounds of someone hitting the ground. When did he get a cattle prod?

And there it is again, the sound of the cattle prod and someone hitting the ground. What the heck?

A bit of dragging later, the sound of someone sliding away the stone covering the opening to the lower part of his crypt, and lots of shuffling around, and suddenly the sounds are all gone. 

Great. Now what? Do I go inside? See what the heck is going on? I mean, obviously everything comes out ok, right? This had to have originally happened, right? Maybe this is the part where he offers to stake Drusilla to prove his love for my mother? Except, Giles’s journal doesn’t mention anything about cattle prods. You’d think she might mention that to him. Then again, who knows? Last time they ended up killing a couple so the timeline is shifted at best. There’s just too many variables. I’ve already intervened, so I might as well make sure it doesn’t send something else pear-shaped.

By the time I manage to stealthily get inside the crypt and sneak my way down the ladder and into the lower area, my father already has Drusilla tied to a pole and my mother chained to a couple of natural columns. When did he have time to rig those up? Why on earth would he rig those up? I’m so confused. Was he planning on having hostages down here at some point? Was this part of the sex game with Harmony? Scratch that… don’t want to know.

Now I’m really gobsmacked. Did he really think chaining her up was the way to win her heart? Sure it would keep her from running off while he spoke, but she’s still not going to really listen to him. You know what though, this is such a vampire thing to do. And my father has been a vampire for far longer than he was ever a human. But there’s no way she’ll understand. 

Oh, Spike. You’ve really stepped in it this time. 

I watch with fascination as the whole incredibly weird scene plays out. The confessions, the rejections, Drusilla telling my mother that vampires can love quite well, but can be rather stupid about it, the threat to stake Drusilla, the threat to let Drusilla kill my mother, the poor scorned Harmony shooting him in the back with a crossbow. (Thank you again, grandfather, because that bolt looks like it hit the heart to me!) The down and out scuffle between Spike and Harmony.

And then Drusilla got free and attacked my mother. 

I act on instinct. I drop my shield to jump in the fray, just as my father appears between Drusilla and my mother, tossing Drusilla across the room and unlocking my mother. 

Huh… 

Talk about an important moment, but Drusilla and I seem to be the only ones who figure that out. 

“Poor Spike,” Drusilla says, her voice trembling as she stands up. “Even I can't help you now.”

I watch her turn to go and then turn to get my father’s reaction. But he isn’t looking at her, he’s looking at me. And he’s angry. Really angry. 

“Spike…” I start.

“Leave!” He grinds out the one-word command. 

“I…” 

“OUT!” He shouts at me, panting from the effort of holding back his temper.

I can’t help the flinch from his anger. I feel like I might as well be a child again, getting caught sneaking out. Then again, I guess this isn’t much different, is it?

I nod and leave the same way Drusilla went. I may have buggered this whole situation to hell, but I can still catch Drusilla and do the right thing.

I let my frustration and anger fuel my pursuit, but get the shock of my life when I blow right past Drusilla, who is sitting perched on a headstone as prim and proper as a Victorian lady at tea. By the time I circle back around, she’s sitting there all but laughing at me. 

“Naughty girls shouldn’t eves drop!” She tells me. 

“Well, someone’s got to keep him in line,” I answer her as casually as I can manage. “Besides, it’s more fun that way!” I smile at her

“Naughty girls shouldn’t lie, either. Daddy shall quite cross already!” 

Holy… Bloody… How does she... She can’t know… Can she? 

And then she’s suddenly on the ground picking flowers. Before I can even gather my thoughts, she’s turned to me and handing some of them to me.

“There’s rue for you, and here’s some for me; we may call it herb of grace o’ Sundays.” She says, handing me part of a bundle of weeds with little yellow flowers. “O, you must wear your rue with a difference. There’s a daisy,” She says, holding out a small little white flower to me, but then pauses, looking deep in thought. “Or perhaps I should save it? Gather them all up for my sweet Willaim?”

I’m sure the blood drains from my face as I recognize her words. There’s no question she knows who I am, though I’m not sure what that last bit is about. Drusilla the Mad knows who, and presumably what, I am.

“You know who I am,” I recover my composure. 

“The tragedy in the castle plays over and over, but you’ve come to change the story.”

It takes me a minute to figure out what she’s saying. Bloody seers. She’s spot on I guess. Which gives me an idea.

“You know why I here, then? What I’m to do?”

She nods.

“Can you tell me?” 

“But,” She gives me a curious frown. “I already have.”

So much for that idea. 

“Well, if that’s the case,” I pull out one of my stakes. “I guess it’s time to send you off to your final rest.”

“But I’ve so much to do!” She exclaims. 

“I can’t let you keep on killing. If I thought there was any chance you’d control your demon…”

“But I’ll miss the train’s birthday party!” She warns me as I begin to lung, causing me to stop just as the tip hits her sternum. 

“The what?” I ask her, uncomprehending. 

“A saint, a president, a light, and a Pope. Important birthdays are coming… it would be a shame to miss it.” She says even more cryptically. 

Crap, I can do this. Riddles are easy a pie….

Oh. 

“Thomas…” I barely whisper the name. “You… you’re the seer who told him…”

She starts giggling madly as she backs away from me slowly and then fades into the shadows.

“All in good time, dearie. All in good time.”


	36. Chapter 35

_October 25, 2011_

“Is it true?” Young Ophelia’s voice interrupts the conversation I was having with the others. 

We'd been discussing the latest rash of so-called unexplained deaths in Soho and Chinatown, which happens to also be the areas with the highest concentration of demons and mixed individuals and families. The implications of escalating anti-demon sentiments are inescapable, as the victims don’t seem to be limited to only demons, but virtually anyone possibly connected to them as well. 

“Is it true?” She repeats her question at a much higher volume and pitch. 

For a brief moment, I’m once again struck at the similarities between her and Dawn. But then I notice that she’s holding a book in her hand, slightly extended towards me. I recognize it almost instantly as one of the many journals I’ve kept over the years. Judging from what I can see of the binding, it is one from… Oh… Oh dear. 

“Ophelia, how did you…”

“IS IT TRUE?” She screams, her tears punctuating her distress, as she throws the journal at me. 

And suddenly I can’t help but think of how she is so much like her mother, my mind recalling exactly how her mother also once threw books at me while lamenting her impending fate at the hands of the master. 

“Ophelia…”

“You killed him?” Her voice is suddenly nothing more than a small whisper. “You? Not some vampire hunters?” 

The look on her face is so pain-filled it is practically eviscerating, and not for the first time I am wondering if waiting to tell her was the right decision. I didn’t anticipate her finding the journal I’d kept from that time so soon, though in retrospect that was probably foolish to hope. Dawn found the journal detailing her origin. Buffy absconded with many a journal, herself. It would seem I have many lessons to relearn. 

“Yes,” I answer her candidly. 

With a speed I’ve not yet witnessed from Ophelia, and had gravely underestimated, she retrieves the journal and sets back off towards the library, a keening wail echoing her departure. By the time we manage to overcome our stupor and follow, she’s locked herself in the library and is sending everything in the room crashing to the floor by the sounds of it. 

Banging on the door seems pointless at first, but then there is sudden silence. Tara tries for several minutes to coax Ophelia to open the door, but gets no response. And then there’s an overwhelming cacophony of different alarms indicating a breached window, as well as the presence of smoke and fire. 

A few manly shoulders put to good use, and we breach the door to find nothing more than a pile of my old journals burning in the center of the room, and the curtains letting in the autumn chill. 

Xander quickly locates the fire extinguisher and puts out the fire as Tara rushes to the window, calling after Ophelia. Willow running the other direction towards the front door, I’m presuming. 

“Well, that could’ve gone better,” Anya opines from the doorway as I try to ease the books apart to ensure they don’t continue to smolder and burn.

“Stating the obvious, sweetie.” Xander’s continued amusement with his wife still amazes me.

“Here’s something else obvious,” She replies. “Told you so!” 

“Yeah, you did.” His look of chagrin is equally obvious. 

“She’s gone!” Willow dashes back to the doorway, already breathless. 

“We have to go after her,” Tara’s resolute determination sets her in motion as she heads for the door. 

“A tracking spell?” Anya suggests.

“No good. Already tried,” Willow answers. “It got about two blocks and then it bounced right back at me.”

“Fascinating,” I can’t help but observe. 

Ophelia’s natural talents with magic have grown immensely the last year. To be able to repel Willow’s tracking spell is quite outstanding for a child her age. I suspect her rapid increase in skill is due at least in part to the onset of her increased physical development as well. The child may be only nine years old chronologically, but she more closely resembles a thirteen-year-old Dawn, including her emotional lability, rather than a typical nine-year-old child.

“Time for fascination later,” Xander’s words draw me from my thoughts. “We’ve got an upset, angry, and hurt little girl, who may or may not have remembered to veil, running around a city full of demons and humans alike who are getting twitchy about anything demony or different.”

“Yes, quite right,” I agree. “We should split up… search for her.”

“Anya, honey, why don’t you stay here? In case she comes back?” Xander suggests, and she nods in agreement. I can’t help but also notice the sigh of relief that accompanies her agreement. Xander’s observation is both acute and timely in a matter such as this.

“Willow and I will head toward Holland park. Why don’t you and Xander try heading towards Hyde?” 

“Sounds like a plan,” Xander nods as we all head toward the front entrance. 

As we split up and head in opposite directions, I can’t help but wonder at my part in the current crisis. I’ve underestimated Ophelia yet again. Not only have I underestimated her resourcefulness at sussing out where I might have hidden the journal, but also at revealing it from its hiding spot. She had to have used magic, and figured out an appropriate spell on her own, no less. 

But that’s the least worrisome issue at the moment. The child knows the part I played in the death of her father. I never planned to hide the truth from her indefinitely, only until she was old enough that she could understand my logic, however misguided it had been at the time. 

“She never will, you know? Understand, that is.” Xander’s skills at inferring my thoughts have certainly grown over the years. 

“Oh?” I ask him hesitantly. 

“It’s not exactly the sort of thing a kid can really ever understand, Giles. You killed her father. Doesn’t really matter what you say, that’ll always be one thing she knows for certain.”

I’m speechless for a bit as we continue searching for her. This child whose very existence has caused me to lose my head so thoroughly that I committed perhaps the greatest sin in all of my years, including my quite misspent youth. The mistake that in the long run cost my slayer her life, and left a brilliant, beautiful, and loving child an orphan.

“I’m a very stupid man.” Frustration colors my words.

“Well, we’ve all been there,” Xander attempts to inject some levity into the conversation as we continue searching. “I mean, my own jealousy certainly got the better of me more than once when it came to Buffy.”

“Jealousy?” I’m not entirely certain what he means.

“When she was on her way to fight Angelus? I didn’t tell her Willow as trying the spell to restore his soul. I told her to kick his ass, instead.” His regret is almost palpable. “Took me a long time to realize a lot of my actions back then had to do with how entitled I felt when it came to Buffy.”

“You think I felt entitled?” I ask him, confused.

“I think we all did,” He answers, giving me a far too knowing look. “Including you. I think that after Angel, we all sort of felt it was our duty to make sure Buffy’s love life went the direction we wanted it to, you know.”

“I had no such…”

“Oh come on, Giles,” He interrupts my protestation. “You remember in the Music Box when you strong-armed Spike that time and told him to move on? Didn’t trust Buffy to take care of it herself, did you? Figured a little visit from old Ripper wouldn’t hurt things, am I right?”

“He was a threat,” I weakly protest as I check behind a hedge.

“Was he really?” Xander asks. 

“He was a vampire!” I turn to face him. “A soulless vampire who, may I remind you, was still seeking to get that bloody chip out of his head at the time!” 

“Yeah, he was,” Xander agrees. “But looking back, I think… I think Spike fell in love with Buffy a long time before that.” 

“What?” Surely he's joking.

“Think about it. Why else would he keep coming back to Sunnydale? It certainly wasn’t because of all his big wins, that’s for sure. Something… or someone… kept drawing him back.”

“And you think it was Buffy?” I ask him.

“I do,” He asserts. “And you have to admit, he really hadn’t been all that evil for a while before he was helping us with Glory.”

“Xander, as I recall, you hated Spike. Why on earth are you now defending him?” I ask as we reach the gardens.

“Like I said, I realized how my own feelings clouded my judgment back then. Seeing what Buffy went through sort of gave me new eyes I guess. Even if one of them is fake.” He smiles.

To this day, he still jokes about that terrible day when Caleb put his eye out. I don’t think I would have ever handled it with such grace.

“Of course, none of that helps us with our current predicament,” I remind him.

“Your current predicament,” He corrects me. 

“I do believe that Ophelia missing is a problem for all of us,” I challenge him.

“True,” He admits. “But you’re the one who has to make amends.”

“Impossible,” I assert without even thinking. My frustration gets the better of me and I turn on him. “How can I ever possibly make up for killing her father? Or the fact that in doing so, I might as well have killed her mother myself?”

Rather than answering, he simply stands there as if he expects me to say more. I decided to oblige him.

“I have done every I can since that day to atone for what I’ve done. To ensure that she has never wanted for anything, and to give her all of the guidance and attention and love that…”

I can’t finish my statement, as the words seem to stick in my throat.

“That Spike and Buffy would have?" He finishes for me.

“And I can’t…” I turn away from him as I find my eyes are clouding suddenly. “I can’t do that if she…”

“If she hates you?” He once again gives voice to my thoughts. 

I merely nod. 

“So tell her.”

“Tell her?” I ask, once again confused. 

“Tell her how you feel,” He clarifies. “You get so wrapped up in the whole watcher stuff, and the training, that it’s hard for a kid to see that sometimes, ‘I want you to be so good nothing can ever touch you,’ is another way of saying, ‘I love you’. All she sees is a grumpy old man who constantly criticizes everything.”

“I’m not old!” I protest. “And I don’t constantly criticize.” I might as well have harrumphed with my statement.

“You really kind of do,” He counters.

And I know he’s correct. About all of it. With her abilities and accelerated growth, I often find myself forgetting she is still a young child. But that isn’t the only thing driving me. Children younger than her have been called as slayers. With the death of each successive new slayer, I worry more and more that she will inevitably be the next to be called. Her strength and skill are already immense, unparallelled with any slayer I’ve ever personally seen, but I still worry that one day I will lose her just as I lost her mother. 

“I really am a stupid man,” I reiterate.

“Well, now you know and you can do something about it.” He claps me on the shoulder.

We search out the rest of the gardens in silence. She loves these gardens, though we rarely get to visit them. We’ve been so focused on keeping her safe that we’ve forgotten that includes protecting more than her physical self. If we find her… No, once we find her… we really must change the way we go about things. She’s both too old and too young to keep her as sheltered as we have. 

“Xander?” I call to him, as we exit the gardens to continue our search. 

“Hmmm?” 

“Thank you,” I answer. 

“Anytime, G man.” 

I’m tempted to tell him yet again not to call me that. But I think that this one time, I’ll let it slide.

We continue searching well into the hours of the morning, finding no trace of Ophelia despite our exhaustive efforts. We decide to make our way back to the residence, hoping the others have had better luck. 

Anya anxiously greets us as soon as we arrive. Her attempts to soothe our worry are appreciated, but her usual style of false hope grates on my nerves at the moment. We try to ring Willow and Tara several times but never get an answer.

At last, just as the sky begins to show the first hints of light, Ophelia quietly walks into the sitting room. She’s quickly enveloped by Anya as Xander asks if Willow and Tara are behind her.

“What do you mean behind me?” She asks, clearly confused.

“They didn’t find you?” Anya asks her. 

“No,” She shakes her head. “They aren’t here?” 

“They’ve been out looking for you since right after you left, sweetie,” Anya tells her.

“Oh, God,” Xander whispers. “Giles, they aren’t answering their phones. What if…”

“Xander!” I hiss at him, instantly shutting him up.

“What if what?” Ophelia’s small and frightened voice cuts through the silence.

“I bet their phones are just… their batteries are probably drained, right?” Xander tries inartfully to reassure her. 

“But aunt Willow charmed Mama Tara’s phone and hers so they won’t die!” Ophelia’s eyes get wider as she realizes the implications. 

Before any of us can stop her, she quickly spins around and stalks out the front entry, murmuring the words to a spell as she goes. A trail of molten light quickly winks into existence and darts off towards the west. 

“Ophelia!” I quickly call to her.

Her head slowly swivels around to send me a murdering glare. I vaguely recall her mother sending me that same look once, and it was no less terrifying then. 

“I know you hate me, but they may need our help, and we can’t do that if we can’t follow you. Just let me get my car?” 

She gives me a shrewd look and I can’t tell immediately if she’s going to agree or not. But after a few seconds, she nods. I quickly fetch the car and we set off in the direction the spell leads us. 

After several minutes, the spell leads us to what appears to be a blind alley. I quickly pull the car over, Ophelia jumping from the vehicle before I’ve even stopped. Xander is quickly chasing after her. I decide to abandon the vehicle in the urgency of the moment in favor of ensuring my little slayer and the others are safe and alive and remain that way. 

Both Xander and I come to a sliding halt as Ophelia’s pained cry rings throughout the space between the buildings. At the end of the space, Willow is lying face down with an obviously weak and battered Tara, half-covering her while trying to fend off what appears to be a group of angry humans wielding bats and bits of pipe with their taunting calls of “witches” and “demon lovers.”

My blood runs cold as one of them sends a particularly vicious hit at Tara’s outstretched arm, visibly shattering the bones, and then repeats the action at her head, sending her sprawling unconscious across Willow’s prone body. 

A roar reverberates off the buildings, and it takes me a moment to realize it came from Ophelia. With a blur of movement, she sets in motion.

“Don’t kill them!” I shout as loudly as I can. In her state of mind, I wouldn’t blame her if she did, but I also can’t let her carry that burden.

I see her stop for only a moment, looking back at me with her anger shining brightly, then she’s back in motion. One by one, all of the assembled humans are rendered unconscious. 

I see Ophelia again, on her knees cradling Tara’s limp form to her. As Xander calls for medical, I move to check on both her and Willow. As I get close, I note that Ophelia is chanting words to what I recognize as a healing spell, and fervently pleading with Tara to wake up. Thankfully, after a few moments, Tara finally makes a small pained noise, sending Ophelia into reassured relief. 

But in her rush to attend to Tara she’s left her rear unguarded. 

I act without thinking, putting myself between Ophelia and the knife-wielding scum as he thrusts the blade toward her, taking the blow while simultaneously clocking the bastard with a hard right and knocking him out before crumbling to the ground myself. 

It probably wasn’t my most intelligent strategy, as the angle and momentum drive the blade deep and several inches across my abdomen. But it isn’t the first time I’ve taken what seemed like a mortal blow for my slayer. 

“Giles!” I hear her yelling my name as I fight to stay conscious. Not an easy task with Xander pressing on my abdomen with his considerable form lending its weight.

“Why?” Her face, with her bluish-white eyes full of tears, looks down on me in confusion. “Why would you do that?”

“Silly girl.” I reach up and push a lock of her beautiful dark curls aside to cup her face as I feel myself losing the battle to dark unconsciousness. “Because I love… you…”


	37. Chapter 36

_March 22, 2001_

Ah yes, college spring break parties. Gotta love ‘em. And when you’re parked on the coast in sunny California, you don’t even have to go anywhere. Of course, I was always dying to go somewhere for something other than slaying purposes. At least I was able to parlay part of the demon incursions in the middle east into credit for my year abroad. 

And as best as I can tell, nothing has really changed much when it comes to how college kids celebrate their spring break. There was snack food galore. There were beer kegs in all the right places. There was that mystery punch for anyone brave enough to sample whatever crazy concoction of various alcohols and liquors someone, or more likely several someones, decided to mix together. There were drunk people dancing everywhere. There was endless snogging on and against any surface that wasn’t taken. And there were locals of both the human and demon variety trying to capitalize on all of it.

Despite all that, the party last night was doubly interesting. I got to watch the Spike and Buffy show from across the room. My father was being, well himself, and my mother was being herself, and they were sending off all sorts of sparks but not exactly the good kind. Buffy was clearly in a state of flux, with increased breathing rate and I’d bet heart rate too if I could have heard it over the music. I probably could have if I'd tried, but it wasn’t that important. It was far more interesting to watch my father get thrown through a window by what is arguably the best android I have ever seen in my life. I have to say, I’m impressed with what this Warren guy can do. I’m still going to kill him, but I can properly appreciate the quality of genius.

And then there was the good doctor. I kind of like the guy. He’s a little on the goofy side, but in a good way. And he was flirting heavy with my mother under the guise of getting coffee. I guess these next few days or weeks are what changes everything between my parents, because I don’t remember Giles writing anything about my mother seeing or dating Ben in any way during this whole thing. Just that he seemed kind to everyone, helpful to Dawn, and he drove out to help with Giles when he was run through as they tried to flee from Glory.

I can’t help the little shiver that runs through me at the thought of that. I have seen him take a knife for me, and it wasn’t pretty. Thank the gods Uncle Xander had been there. It wasn’t the first or last time he put his life on the line for me. I know he loves me but it still doesn’t make up for what he did. Sometimes you just have to cut the toxic people out even when you still love them.

Which is why I’m standing here aghast and agape as Giles has my father pinned against the shelves telling him to forget about my mother and move on. More so because all the others have treated him so coldly just now, even aunt Anyanka. 

It takes me only a moment to decide that, in this, I have to intervene. I can’t let them go on with this hate and as much as I accept my father wants me staying out of the whole business between him and my mother, rightfully so, I can’t let everyone else treat him like this.

“Stop!” I shout with authority, making sure to get everyone’s attention, as I put a hand on Giles’s chest and put just enough pressure behind it to ensure he gets the idea to lay off and has to back up a half step to keep his balance.

“Hope…”

“No! You will not ‘Hope’ me this time. The way you all are acting is appalling! Reprehensible! Not to mention, completely unacceptable!”

“Slayer…”

“This isn’t about you, Spike,” I tell him, never breaking eye contact with Giles. “It’s about them and what they’re becoming.”

I see Giles’s forehead crease in thought for just a brief second before he gets control of himself again. 

“All of them,” I add, continuing my staring match with Giles. I know this particular dance and all the steps to it. 

“Right, then,” My father responds. “I’ll just, um, see my way out.”

“Probably a good idea,” I tell him. 

A few seconds later I hear the bell over the door signaling he’s left the building, and I finally drop my hand and the pressure against Giles’s chest, sending him just slightly off-balance for a split second. After one more second of the staredown, he turns and takes a few steps away, breathing deeply. I can feel the anger rolling off of him in waves as the others are just now shaking off their stupor at the fact I so brazenly challenged him. 

“Explain yourself!” He insists, rapidly turning around to face me again. 

“Me?” I ask, incredulous. “How about you all explain yourselves first!” 

“We didn’t do anything!” Uncle Xander defends himself. 

“You suggested throwing him out in the sunlight!” I remind him. “And you, Anya, agreed!” I point out to her.

“Well, yeah! He’s a vampire. You do remember that, right?” Xander asks me. 

“You all just treated him like shite! The nicest thing I can say about that whole exchange was that Tara is about the only one who had a proper level of response.”

“And what level of response is appropriate when a vampire chains someone up and threatens to feed her to his crazy ex?” 

“None of you… not one… were there. None of you know what happened or who said or did what.”

“And you were?” Xander challenged me.

“As a matter of fact, yes!” 

That catches everyone off guard. 

“Oh, Buffy left that part out, did she?” Interesting. I make a mental note to ask her why later.

“Did any of you stop and think that this is something Buffy can handle this on her own?” I ask them. “Or are you all so damned determined to run her life for her that you have to interfere because you think you have a right to?”

“That’s enough, Hope,” Giles responds.

“I haven’t even gotten started,” I give him a sad smile.

“You all have changed. In just the little bit of time I’ve been here, you’ve all gone from these happy, hopeful, people to become these bitter, hardened, entitled, things that are filling yourselves with more and more hatred every day.” 

“Even you, Dawn,” I turn to face her. “You were Spike’s number one fan, and now you hate him and want him to leave you alone? Really? Do you realize how lonely you’d be if he weren’t around? Or dead for that matter?”

She frowns for a moment and then ducks her head down and walks over to the table as she thinks about that.

“Anya!” She jumps as I call her name. “Out of everyone, I expected at least you to understand. You’re probably the only other one here that even has an inkling about vampires and their behavior. Not to mention the only other one who accepts they can love. And yet you jumped right on the throw him in the sunlight train. What if you and Xander break up in the future? How would you feel about Dawn jumping on the ‘off with Anya’s head’ train?”

“Well… I... “ She stares at me for a moment and then just grumbles and stalks over to the cash register and begins angrily counting the money in the register.

“Willow?” 

She puts on her resolve face, raising her chin in defiance.

“I get that you’ve got the best friend slot. It’s your social duty to defend Buffy. But does she really need defending?” 

“She asked me to find a way to disinvite him!”

“She was in a panic!” I point out. How would you feel if Anya turned around and pinned you against the bookshelves while declaring her undying love for you? Wouldn’t you be a little on the wigged out side? Maybe immediately work on a delusting spell? Anti-love spell, maybe? Anything to make things way less awkward?”

“No!” She immediately replies. 

I don’t even justify that with a comment. Just my best look telling her I know she’s completely full of it.

“Maybe,” She begrudgingly admits. 

“And you,” I turn back to face Giles. “What happened to the idea that maybe Spike was was destined for some higher purpose?” 

“Clearly I was wrong,” He rolls his eyes.

“Are you certain about that? Willing to bet everyone’s lives on it?” I ask him with no small amount of long-held anger and contempt.

“What do you mean?” He asks. 

“I mean that I wager that even if his destiny was to save the entire planet, you’d still kill him with a song in your heart for daring to love your slayer. Particularly if she ever decided to love him back.”

“Don’t be absurd,”

“I’m not. I could see it as clear as day when you told him to move on. It wouldn’t matter to you if Buffy was head over heels in love with him, you wouldn’t be able to stand it. All because he’s a vampire.”

“Well, I’ve bloody well stood by before and…”

Gotcha.

“And that’s what it all boils down to, isn’t it? The larger than life shadow of Angelus hanging over everyone’s heads.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Giles dismisses me out of hand.

“Oh, I think I know quite well,” I argue. “Tell me,” I look around at everyone in turn. “Have any of you given Spike even half of the chances you gave Angel more times than I can count? A tenth of the consideration you gave Angel even after he’d tortured everyone and come back from hell?”

“What can I say, we learned our lesson the first time,” Xander asserts.

“No, I think you learned to hate and judge based on a bunch of lies Angel told to save his own skin.”

“What do you mean, 'lies'?” Willow asks curiously, then seems to remember she's mad at me. “And how would you even know? Angel left months before you showed up.”

“Because I know Angel.” 

That seems to get everyone’s attention.

“Did you all know he was in town back in May?” I ask them. 

Now I’ve really got everyone’s attention. 

“He was. In fact, he and Riley had to play a game of who has the biggest stones, and I had to put an end to it before they both got hauled in by the Initiative goons.”

“So you’ve met him, that doesn’t mean you know what happened.”

“You mean like you all don’t know what happened at Spike’s crypt? But you sure are all ready to take over and run Buffy’s life for her when it doesn’t go the way you think it should.”

“We’d never…” Xander begins.

“You already have!” I tell him. “Willow says kick his ass?” 

After only a second’s pause, Xander’s face drains of all color. 

“What? No! Who? I said that? When?” Willow is trying desperately to both figure out what I’m talking about and defend herself at the same time.

“Buffy is the slayer. The original slayer. She is perfectly capable of self-determination. If you all keep interfering and trying to run her life the way you think it should go, you’ll just end up making yourselves and everyone else miserable. She needs you all, but she’s a big girl. Let her handle her own life. Be there for her, listening and helping instead of trying to push things in the direction you want them.”

Everyone seems to think about that for a few moment. 

“And for the love of all that is holy, please stop believing everything Angel told you. They aren’t demons wearing human meat suits. The soul doesn’t give them the capacity to love, nor make them suddenly know right from wrong. They can love without a soul.”

“You keep saying that,” My mother interrupts from the training room door. 

A chorus of “Buffy!” rings out.

“Did you…?” Willow asks.

“Yeah, I found Warren. And then the robot found us.”

“Are you ok?” Dawn stands up and takes a few steps towards her.

“Yeah,” She gives Dawn a very sad half-smile. 

“And the robot?” Willow asks.

I notice the sadness that even further clouds my mother’s face. Something happened there that never made it in the books.

“Dead,” She answers finally. 

“So you killed her?” Anya asks from behind the counter.

“No,” my mother shakes her head. “He power just… ran out.” 

“Oh,” Willow seems nonplussed. “Well, that’s good I guess.”

“Don’t think she felt that way about it,” my mother answers. “She didn’t understand that she was… dying.”

“Well, I guess it’s good she was a robot. At least she didn’t, you know, suffer,” Tara offers.

I don’t know if anyone else caught my mother’s flinch, but I did.

“But she did, didn’t she?” I ask her gently and get a knowing look in return.

“He programmed her to love him. Only him. And I think… maybe… she just seemed so... hurt... when she figured out he dumped her. As she was dying, she was trying to figure out what she’d done wrong. Still hoping he’d come back and tell her it was all a mistake. That he loved her the way she loved him.”

Could it be? Did a robot, of all things, teach my mother than you don’t have to be human to love someone?

“And if a robot can love with everything in them...” I leave the comment unfinished.

And this time I see it. The tiny glimmer of a thought that maybe it is possible to love without a soul. But then I see the glimmer start to die.

I decide to go for broke. Maybe, just maybe, I can actually change their minds. 

“I need to show you something,” I tell them all. I can already feel my pulse speeding up as my adrenaline responds to my decision. “Everyone circle up. Before I change my mind, preferably.”

“You’re going to use magic?” Willow asks, as everyone very kindly, though hesitantly, does what I asked.

“Yes,” I clarify. “But the circle is more to facilitate the transfer rather than invoke anything.”

I’ve never done this on this sort of scale but it should work in theory. 

“Alright everyone, place the first two fingers on your right hand on the temple of the person to your right, like this.” I demonstrate by putting my fingers to my mother’s left temple.

“You’re not going to like, turn our brains to jello or something, are you?” Uncle Xander asks with a bit of trepidation.

“Not even close,” I give him a reassuring smile. 

I can’t make the same guarantee for myself though. 

“Now, close your eyes and try to clear your mind if you can.”

Everyone does. I take a big breath and hope like hell that what I’m about to do is worth it.

“Arată-le.” 

The command and the will behind it fall from my lips and I very carefully dig through my memories, sending them out in pulses straight to my mother’s mind, and hopefully, they keep right on going through to each person in succession.

_“Would you like to dance?”_

_“I don’t dance with vampires.”_

_“It’s just a dance. You could easily kill me if you so desired.”_

_“Adrenaline junkie.”_

_“I just want to dance with the beautiful girl who shares my birthday.”_

_“Happy birthday, cuore mio.”_

I release a torrent of hundreds of images and feelings, allowing them to flow from me into her. All the stolen moments. The little things he did every day to show me he loved me. The back up when I was hunting. Never pushing me, but always there should I need or want the help. Letting me shine. Introducing me to his family. Explaining how he would never kill a human. The time he saved my life. The happiness of just being together. Encouraging me. Loving me. Every single moment of joy, and happiness, and love that I ever felt in his arms. Just being near him. My best friend. My confidant. My love. I opened it all up and let it free like never before. 

_“You find this demon, and end it. Then we will speak to your grandfather together. All will be well, my love. Go.”_

That last look at his face. His smile burned into my memory for all eternity, as I turned away.

The pile of dust.

The feeling as if my heart were being wrenched from my chest. Clawing at the dust and holding handfuls of it to me as if the dust itself could fill the hole left where my heart once was. The screams. The tears. The endless screaming and tears.

And then nothing. 

I hear someone call my name and shake me hard enough to rattle my brain around in my skull. It does no good. My legs refuse to hold my weight any longer and I collapse, only to be scooped up into someone’s arms. 

“Thomas?” My mind is still lost in the confusion of memories and I desperately grab at his shirt. 

“Not quite, luv,” The voice is more clear now, as he pulls me in tighter.

“See to the little bit? Likely got more ‘n she can wrap her head around.” He tells someone.

“Yes…” comes a watery warble. “Of course.” It’s Giles. 

“You gonna be okay?” His voice is softer now, as he turns to face someone.

“I…” A trembling whisper responds. 

“Buffy?”

Whatever she does must give him a good enough answer. He turns again and takes a few steps. 

“Where are you going?” I hear uncle Xander ask. 

“Takin’ her home, you nit. Got a problem with that?” My father asks as he keeps on walking,

I don’t hear a response.

Or anything else for that matter, as the bone-deep exhaustion overtakes me.


	38. Chapter 37

_February 27, 2015_

_“I think it's time, Ophelia, that we perhaps discussed utilizing someone else to help further advance your training."  
"Someone else?"  
"Yes, someone who can help you enhance your skills beyond what I can offer you."  
"There's nothing wrong with my skills."_

That’s why I'm here. My enhanced hearing allows me to continue listening from outside the room as the girl reassures the watcher that he's perfectly adequate and that there's nothing left to improve upon. Oh, to be that young and certain, again. To feel like you're invincible and that you know way more about everything than anyone else around you. Maybe you do in some ways. You're more blind to certain things and more open to others. 

I was actually pretty shocked when the old watcher called me up and asked me if I would be interested in training the kid. I'm pretty sure he's never liked me at all, and he's only ever contacted me when there was something more dire than usual going on. I've helped out a slayer or three here and there, but nothing quite as intensive as he's proposing now.

_"I think you'll find he may be able to help you in other areas as well."  
"Such as?"  
"Well, perhaps he can assist you to continue learning how to balance both sides of your nature, now that…”  
“DON’T say it.”  
“Really, Ophelia, you must learn to cope with Tara’s death.”  
“I’m coping just fine!”_

I can't help but smile. I remember thinking I was coping just fine with the complete craziness, confusion, and death that was my life when I came back. Even after I strapped a bomb to my chest and tried to blow up a shopping center, I still thought I was coping pretty well. But I can’t exactly do what my dad did and give this kid a whole new life and a new set of memories to help her out. I’ll just have to help her learn to deal otherwise, and hope like hell she isn't as stubborn as I was back then.

Sometimes it's hard to even remember what life was like back then. Living in Quor'Toth was no picnic, but then again neither is Earth anymore. It seems like every day another city has fallen to the demons and minions of the First. At this rate in another 15 or 20 years, Quor'Toth and Earth may be pretty on par with each other. 

_"Just, please, give him a chance, Ophelia."_

I hear the old watcher getting more frustrated by the second. Guess now is as good a time as any to jump in.

As the two of them continue to edge closer and closer to a heated argument, I stealthily sneak into the training room. To his credit, the old watcher doesn't even blink different or give any indication he's noticed me but continues arguing with the kid. I'm almost wondering if he has noticed me. Maybe they're both a little too distracted by their argument?

I actually manage to grab her from behind mid-rant, garnering myself a hell of a squeal before she manages to get a leg and hip around behind me and gets herself out of the hold, grabbing my arm in the process and trying to put me in a wrist lock. 

"Connor?" She asks, confused, as I grin up at her. Immediately she loosens her grip a bit.

"Hey, squirt!" My smile gets even bigger as I counter her wrist lock, putting her off balance, and I manage to flip her forward. A simple pull in the right direction and I've got her arm locked and her head pinned. 

"Give?" I ask her.

She thrashes around a second and it takes just about every bit of strength I've got to keep her pinned, but I manage. 

"Give?' I ask again. 

"Yes," She begrudgingly replies. 

Thank god. If she's my full strength at twelve, what will she be like in another year or two? 

We both get up, and then she nearly tackles me with a hug before she suddenly backs off and acts like she couldn't care less that I'm here. I'd forgotten about how your mind completely messes with you at that age. 

"Good to see you too, Phe." I smile at her again.

"Why are you here, Connor?" She crosses her arms and tries to look defiant, but I can tell it's half-hearted.

"Giles and I were talking and we thought you might like training with someone who can hold their own against you. Give you a run for your money." 

I give the old watcher a nod, giving him the ok to go ahead and leave, which he seems grateful to take.

"Whatever," She rolls her eyes at me. "Like you could keep up."

"Hey, I managed to sneak up on you didn't I?" I give her a smirk and rub her head, even though she's almost the same height as I am now.

"Hey, hey, hey!" She protests, pushing my hand away. "No touching the beast!"

"The beast? It's alive?" I give her hair a wary once over.

"Well, it has a mind of its own, so yeah."

“Ok, then. Moving on… How’ve you been?” I ask her, a little more serious this time.

“I’m fine,” She grumbles as she rolls her eyes and turns away, heading for the heavy bag over by the corner. 

“Fine?” I ask, clearly skeptical.

“Fine!” She insists as she starts pounding away on the excessively taped bag.

“Cool,” I decide to avoid a potential argument for now. “What say we patrol then?” 

“What?” She freezes mid-swing. 

“Patrol,” I reiterate. “You know, you and me cruise around looking for any dangerous demons, vampires, and whatnot, and kill ‘em?”

“Patrol?”

“You really going to make me repeat everything?” I tease her. “‘Cause I was under the impression that you were a lot smarter than most kids your age, but I can talk slower if you…”

I step aside as the heavy bag slides to a stop just to the right of where I was standing. Between her eyes and her smirk, I can tell it wasn’t malicious. More of an acknowledgment and a warning.

“You know, most kids would have just told me to shut up,” I smile at her.

“Yeah, well, I’m not like most kids,” She says. There’s an edge to it of something a little darker. Something sadder and angrier. Something I remember very well.

“Yeah, I get that, Phe. I really do.” 

She visibly deflates a little, finally dropping at least a little bit of the bravado. I’m shocked it took her this long. I don’t get a chance to see her much, but she’s always been more than welcoming. Practically talked my ear off every time I saw her once she found out who my parents were.

“So are we patrolling or what?” I ask her again.

“Can we do that?” She asks me, uncertain. 

My conversation with Giles earlier had me worried about her. Not because of anything she’s done, but because he clearly doesn’t understand her. 

“You bet! Got the old man’s permission and everything.” 

She virtually lights up, as she starts ripping the tape off her hands. The old watcher doesn’t get that people like her and I are made to move. We need to fight, and run, and defend. We need to hunt. I didn’t really understand that for a long time after I got my memories back. I thought I could go on being a “normal” guy, but I never could get over this feeling like my skin was too tight. Like there was something else I should be doing. 

So patrolling is one of the first things I convinced Giles she absolutely needed to be doing. He was understandably hesitant. She’s been unpredictable anytime he’s tried and tends to get overly enthusiastic. Apparently, after Tara died, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to control her. He doesn’t understand that she’s been controlling herself for most of her life. I know Tara did a lot of mindfulness and meditation with her, but she’s still always had a pretty good leash on her demon side her whole life. Too much, in fact. My job now is to take that and teach her how to use that side of herself, without being afraid of it.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” I catch her arm just as she runs by me towards the door. “Rules first,” I tell her. 

“Rules?” She whines. “I thought…”

“Yes, rules,” I interrupt her. “We stay together at all times. The old man is trusting me to keep you safe.”

“I’m twelve years old!” She starts to protest. I can practically smell the anger pouring out of every one of her pores. “Slayers have been called who were younger than me!” 

“And yet, the powers have apparently decided it isn’t your time yet.”

“I don’t think the powers are in charge of anything in this world anymore,” She bites out with way more anger than necessary. 

“Then why do they keep choosing new slayers?” I ask her.

“Because they keep picking the wrong one.” Her retort is about a snarky as one would expect if she were closer to sixteen. 

Ah, so that’s another part of all this. Anxious to get started fulfilling that destiny that’s awaiting her. I remember that too. Of course, mine was all based on lies, but I didn’t know that.

“Or maybe you’re destined for something bigger?” I suggest.

“Don’t tell me you believe that tripe about how I’m gonna save the whole world?” 

“I know the powers like to pick on my family for all sorts of world-ending and world-saving. So, yeah, I do believe it.”

“We’re not family, Connor,” She rolls her eyes.

“So my dad didn’t sire your dad’s sire?” I ask her, shocked that she’d say something like that.

“And?” She asks, clearly not getting it.

“And... that pretty much makes me your great uncle.” I give her a self-satisfied grin.

“What? That’s crazy,” She gives me a skeptical look.

“Not really. What do you know about vampire lines?” I ask her.

“Just what I’ve read. Different lines have different statuses. Some lines might be stronger than others, that sort of thing.” 

And there it is. The piece that’s missing. She’s got all this information in her head. But all of this knowledge has no real context. She has no way to know how to apply it. It’s time to get that started.

“What you don’t know, is that they’re family. At least ours is. So yeah, I’m your uncle, ok?” 

“I got more ‘uncles’ that I can count,” She responds, clearly a little annoyed with all the titles everyone’s been given.

“Yeah, but I’m actually related. So quit being a brat and let’s go patrol,” I go to rub her head again, but she intervenes.

“Don’t. Touch. The Beast.” She tells me with all seriousness.

“Ok. No touching ‘the beast’. Can we please go patrol now?” I ask.

“Yeah, ok,” She shrugs. 

“And you’ll follow the rules?” 

“Yeah, yeah, we stay together,” She says.

“At all times?” 

“At all times.” She nods.

“Good!” I tell her, as we head for the door. 

I open said door and wave her through. No sense in abandoning manners. 

She says a few words, a spell to hide herself from those who can sense what she is. At least I don’t have to worry about that too much. For some reason, demons can sense I’m not all human, but I don’t really throw off the serious energy that she does. Probably because I’m a mystically created half-breed, while she’s the real thing. Not that that's stopped some demons and humans from trying to kill me, so I get it. 

“Ready?” I ask her.

“I was ready five years ago,” She answers with enough confidence for two slayers. 

“Well, then you’ll have no problem keeping up!” I tell her right before I take off at a pretty high speed, heading north.

“Oh no, you didn’t!” I hear her call after me. 

It doesn’t take her long to catch up to me. I push myself a little faster, trying to gauge some of her abilities as she gives chase. She obviously has no problem keeping up with me. But can she use her senses while doing it?

I go up, and she quickly follows. London provides a pretty good challenge for parkour, terrain depending on where you’re at. This area is mostly houses and small businesses, so there’s enough changing terrain to keep it interesting. I put on a quick burst of speed. Enough to take me out of her visual field for a second if she isn’t using her enhanced abilities. I drop down and freeze. 

And she blows right by me. 

Just like I figured she would. And it’s as good a place as any to start. She needs to learn not only how to use her full abilities, but how to anticipate her prey’s moves. 

I spring back into action, and extend out my own senses. They probably aren’t as enhanced as hers are, but I’ve had a lot more practice using them and learned how to sharpen them to their full extent. She’s not that far ahead of me, and she’s slowed, probably just now realizing she’s lost me. 

Suddenly she stops, and I manage to find a place to hide. She’ll only see me if she uses her enhanced vision. 

She turns around slowly, and I see her sniffing the air. Good information. Scent is her first go to. It’s a strong skill to have. Everything’s got its own scent, so even if you can’t see it, if you can scent it then you can find it. The only problem is, I haven’t been where she is yet, and I’m downwind of her. 

“Connor?” I hear her call out. Not too loud, but loud enough my enhanced hearing picks it up. 

I grab a couple of small rocks from where I’m perched and toss them hard, about 60 yards from where I’m at, and watch as her head snaps around to where they hit. As she sets into motion, so do I. Coming around behind her, and we converge at nearly the same time, but she never saw me coming. 

“You’re sloppy,” I whisper from behind her just after she stops.

She nearly jumps out of her skin but sends an automatic and brutal kick in my direction. Definitely a fight, rather than flight, or freeze, response. Not that I expected any different, but good to know. 

“And you’re not using all your senses,” I tell her, as we trade a series of punches and kicks, sparring on this business rooftop. “Not to their full extent.”

“Don’t need them to beat you!” She catches me with a wicked spin kick, knocking me back. 

“Is that why you lost me? Blew right past me?”

She throws a little more vigor behind her next few punches. Her emotions fuel her. We can use that. But it can also backfire. Get her into situations she can’t control.

“Or maybe it’s why I could sneak up on you… twice,” I tease her, catching her next kick. She uses it to kick up and over, freeing herself. 

“Maybe I let you,” She covers her frustration with more false bravado. 

“Then why can I smell your fear?” I ask as we circle each other. “You can’t fake that. You aren’t that good… yet.”

I see her give a surreptitious sniff, and can’t help my short laugh.

“Stop for a second?” I hold my hands up. 

“Why?” She asks, clearly not trusting I’m actually stopping.

“Just trust me, ok?” 

She has to think about that for a second but then concedes. 

“Let it out, Phe,” I tell her.

“Let what out?” She asks, confused. 

“All of it. Don’t worry about who’s looking, or what anyone else thinks.”

I can tell she’s hesitant. Very, very, very hesitant. 

“Look, Phe, your senses are probably even stronger than mine. But not if you don’t use them. They’re part of you, so use them to your advantage.”

“I don’t need to,” She responds defiantly. 

“You do if you want to stay alive, much less save the world. I know Tara was talking to you about balance, but..."

“Don’t…” Her angry reaction at my mention of Tara is immediate.

“But, you can’t balance only one part of yourself. You can’t control your response if you never even know what it really feels like.”

“I know what it feels like,” Her contrite snark is equally obvious.

“No, you know what it’s like to lose control,” I counter.

“But…”

“You’re afraid how others will react?” I ask her, knowingly. “You won’t be just another kid?”

“I’ve never been just another kid,” She angrily bites out.

“But you wanna be. But you’re also desperate to be the next slayer.”

She turns away from me and starts taking deep breaths, trying to calm herself down probably.

“I know what it feels like, Phe. I remember. Growing up in a world full of demons, waiting for that day that I could finally fulfill that destiny I’d been told was my whole reason for existing. Wondering why me? Why did I have to be the one living in this hell, fighting everything, all so that one day I could be old enough and strong enough to kill my father for the good of the world?”

The faint scent of tears drifts on the wind to me.

“It confused the hell out of me. You know the stories. I was a mess. The funny thing is, I thought I was doing great.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not you.” She replies, facing me again.

“No, you aren’t. I’ve got about sixteen years of practice on you. So trust me on this, let go and use all of your senses. Forget about what a slayer should be. Forget about what a normal girl is supposed to be. Start trying to figure out what you’re going to be like. All of you. The whole package.”

“But…”

“No,” I interrupt. “No, buts. Embrace it all. Your parents would have wanted that.”

I hear her sharp intake and know the argument before she even voices it.

“Hey, my dad was a vampire, too, remember? But, he never tried to get me to be anything less than I was. And from what I remember, your mother wanted him to help you learn about that side of yourself. So yeah, I do know.”

“But…”

“But, nothing. I don’t really care what anyone else has told you so far, or what you think you know. Or even the whole saving the world stuff. All I care about is you and making sure you’re safe. And not just in the physical sense. You can’t do that if you’re only being half yourself. Got it?”

She nods. 

“Now, close your eyes.” 

“What?”

“We’re back to repeating everything?” I tease her. 

She sighs and rolls her eyes, but does what I ask. No time like the present.

“What do you smell?” I ask her.

She takes several deep breaths and gets an annoyed look on her face. 

“People. Lots and lots of people.” She finally answers. 

“Well, yeah. What else? Go deeper.”

I see her try to center herself. Then she takes a few slow, purposeful breaths, a look of deep concentration on her face as she does.

“Two dogs. A fireplace. Someone nearby smoking,” She clarifies.

“What else?”

“What am I supposed to be smelling?” She asks me, annoyed.

“What else?” I’m not budging.

After more breathing and concentration, she turns her head about 120 degrees and gives a very purposeful sniff of the air.

“Food. Steak?”

“A Philly cheesesteak, to be exact.” I correct her.

“And… ice cream!” Her face lights up. 

“Very good! What say we check it out? I’m starving!”

Her eyes pop open and she nods her head vigorously. 

“But first… close your eyes again.” One more lesson.

She nods and does as I ask.

“There’s one more scent you should have picked up,” I tell her.

“Oh?” She asks, eyes still closed as she starts sniffing the air again. 

“There’s a slightly salty and pungent scent, with just a hint of something like maple syrup.”

After a few seconds, she nods, having caught the faint scent now that she knows what she was looking for.

“It’s a Kith'Harn demon. And they follow whoever, or whatever, local evil has the most power.”

“How do we kill it?” She asks without missing a beat.

“Sever the spinal cord. A broken neck will do it.” I tell her.

I notice her eyelids are flickering and she looks almost like she’s reading something with her eyes are closed. 

“Tusks?” She asks, seeming surprised. 

“Yeah. How’d you know?” I ask her. 

“I’ve seen pictures of them,” She shrugs as she opens her eyes to look at me again. 

Ah yes. I seem to remember Tara once saying something about her having a photographic memory. Mine isn’t quite that good, but close. 

“So you also know they’re strong?”

“So am I,” She answers with a wicked little grin.

“Well, let’s go kill a Kith'Harn demon,” I give her my own wicked little grin.

“And then ice cream?” She asks, hopeful.

“And then ice cream.”

“Yay!” She beams at me, as she almost bounces in place. 

“But…” I give her the condition for her reward. “Only if you find the demon using your sense of smell.”

“Deal!” She nods and then she’s off like a shot.

“Rules!” I shout, catching her just as she’s about to go over the side of the building, stopping her in her tracks.

“Oh, yeah,” She calls back to me sheepishly. “Sorry!”

“Go,” I tell her. “I’m right behind you.”

I almost can’t keep up with her. It takes her just about a minute and a half to find the demon, right as it’s turning into an alley. Five minutes later and with only a couple of assists, she's managed to snap its neck. It wasn’t the cleanest fight, but given that she’s only ever faced vampires in cemeteries, I’d say it was damn good. 

“Now, how about that ice cream?” I ask

“Can it be a double?” Her eyes light up again.

“I think that can be arranged.”

As we sit in the little shop, I can’t help notice how much more relaxed and happy she looks. There’s a lot of work to do here, but it’s definitely a start.


	39. Chapter 38

March 23, 2001

_“Isn’t this song a little old?”_

_Down to where forever lies, without a doubt I'm on your side  
There's nowhere else that I would rather be_

_“Would you prefer I play a different one?”_

_I'm not about to compromise  
Give you up to say goodbye_

_“No, I like it. It’s just…”_

_I'll guide you through the deep  
I'll keep you close to me_

_“You doubt such a thing is possible?”_

_I'll follow you down to the eye of the storm  
Don't worry I'll keep you warm_

_“I’m beginning to think that with you, anything is possible.”_

_I'll follow you down  
While we are passing through space  
I don't care if we fall from grace_

_“You underestimate your own strength.”_

_I'll follow you_

_“Can we just stay like this forever?”_

_If I could find assurance  
To leave you behind_

_“Soon, cuore.”_

_I know my better would fade  
I'll follow you down_

I startle awake with a gasp as the memory floods my mind once again. I could almost swear I was back in my own time, pressed against him in ancient rhythm as the music seems to flow around and through us. He really loved that song, but I haven’t listened to it in over three years, now. Almost four, if you count the year that I’ve been here. And I probably won’t hear it ever again except in my dreams.

“Should probably drink something,” My father’s voice nearly makes me jump out of my skin, and I look to see him holding out a glass of water to me, with a second glass of blood in his other hand. 

I reach for the blood instead. It’ll help with the exhaustion far more than the water. 

“How long have I been out?” I ask him.

“Bit over eighteen hours,” He answers guardedly, then switches glasses with me after I gulp down the blood. 

“Damn,” I mumble appreciatively. “Guess I put more energy into that spell than I intended.”

“That’s the thing with magic…” 

“It always has consequences?” I finish for him.

“'S right,” He answers with curious hesitance. “Guessing I told you that a time or two?”

Oh, Spike. If only…

“Suffice it to say I heard it a few times,” I smile at him.

“I’m guessing it never made it through that head or yours then?” He asks with a conspiratorial grin.

“No, it did. But I was hoping the consequences this time were worth it.”

“This time?” He gives me a look that says that I apparently haven’t learned my lesson. 

“I’m pretty good with magic. But yes, I’ve gotten carried away and hurt people.” Damn near killed them, in fact, before Uncle Connor and Aunt Willow stopped me. “But then I got a much better teacher.”

“Uh, huh.” He gives me a dubious look. “Don’t suppose I’ve met this ‘teacher’?” 

Now that’s a hell of a question. 

“What would make you think that?” I try to make it sound as absurd a thought as possible as I sip my water.

“Seen that sort of magic before.” He fetches a chair from the little table in the room and then sets in it right next to the bed. “Not the sort of thing you generally pick up here or there.” 

“Oh?”

“You know I was in eastern Europe for a while just before the turn of the century, right?” He gives me a look that says he clearly knows I’m bluffing. 

“Nice.” I feign indifferent appreciation. “See any cool places?

“Well,” He gets lost in reminiscing. “Angelus insisted we go to Sedlec, outside Kutna Hora. He has a thing for churches, clergy really, and bones…”

“The Ossuary,” I nod, knowingly. 

“Bucharest was a bit of alright,” He adds. “Up until a stranger tried to use the same sort of mojo to try and read Dru’s mind. Gypsy bird was hittin’ up tourists professing to read their fortunes. Dru lit up like a kid at Christmas and insisted she read hers. Didn’t go so well for the bird.”

“No, I would imagine not.” I can only imagine what it would be like getting a lifetime of memories out of a mad vampire’s head.

“Not usually a good idea to go messin’ around in people’s heads.” He gives me a serious look. “‘Sides, thought I told you to stay out of what goes on between me and Buffy.”

“Like I said, I wasn’t about you,” I tell him as I prop myself up a little straighter against the headboard. 

His look tells me he clearly doesn’t believe me.

“It wasn’t!” I’m a little more adamant this time. “It was about them. You have no idea what kind of people they become.”

“And you figure it’s your job to change that?” He asks

“I can’t just sit around and watch them become those people again!” I’m now up and off the bed, glass discarded,directly facing him, causing him to stand in equal reaction. “Their hate ends up destroying multiple lives! I have to try!”

“‘Course you do,” His demeanor softens after a second and he smiles. “Just like your mother.”

“And my father,” I correct him with a knowing smile, as he moves to cup one side of my face with his hand. 

He pauses just a fraction away from my skin.

“I see you, you know?” I ask him, as I use my own hand to the back of his, and press it to my face, nuzzling in just slightly. “Trying to fit in as much as they will let you. Trying to do what’s right. Trying to be a better man.” 

“Hope…” He breathes out my name with exasperation. “‘M not…”

“Just don’t give up, ok?’ I ask him. “Keep trying? For me? They’ll see it one day.”

“And what’s that?” He asks, hesitantly.

“You… the man, and not just the monster.” 

He stares deeply into my eyes for several seconds, and for the first time, it really strikes me just what everyone meant all these years. I’ve heard all my life how I have my father’s eyes, but it held no context. Was it the color? The depth? The shape? No, it was more than that. And I can’t even begin to explain what that means to me.

Or the other memories it suddenly draws forth.

“Hey, now, what’s this?” He asks, as his thumb brushes away a tear from my cheek. “‘M not really worth all that.” He jokes. 

“I just realized how much you and…” My voice breaks for a moment. I clear my throat and try again. “Your expressions. You and he share a lot of that.”

“Handsome bloke, was he?” He once again jokes, drawing a little laugh from me.

“You’ve no idea!” I giggle just the slightest. “But he’s the complete opposite of you.”

“Got a thing for tall, dark, and all forehead, like your mother, then?” He teases.

“Have you seen your forehead?” I tease him right back. 

He feigns dramatic indignity that makes me laugh even more.

“But yes, he was tall and dark. But not built anything like Angelus or Soldier Boy at all.”

“So you’ve met the great poof?” He steps back, seeming to close off a bit. “Around a lot as you were growing up?”

“No, actually,” I can’t help but roll my eyes at the jealousy rolling off of him. “He was killed when I was just a baby.’

“Oh, well, that’s alright then, I guess.” 

“Oh my gosh, you’re horrible!” I give his shoulder a playful slap.

“I keep telling you I’m a bad man!” He defends. 

“I saw Angelus when he was in town last year. Just before the whole Adam thing went down.” I explain. “I have to agree though, he and Soldier Boy were almost carbon copies.’

“But your mate wasn’t like that?” He asks. “Don’t need too many details, mind.”

“Like I really want to discuss my sex life with my father?” 

“I seem to recall it’s already come up a time or two.”

“Oh, yeah,” I blush just a bit. “I guess it has. Guess that’s what you get for pissing me off.” I give him a wicked grin. “So be nice unless you want all the lascivious details.”

“Two can play at that game,” He gives me a very lewd leer that leaves me with no doubt what so ever that he could wipe the floor with me in that department. 

“I so do not want to go there.” I hold my hands up in surrender. “I could probably handle the stuff about Drusilla, but even the idea of you with Harmony…” I shiver and make a face of horrible distaste. 

“Don’t remind me,” He grimaces. 

“So… moving on. Thomas was built more like you. Just… taller. Very lean, with long lines, and wavy dark hair. Almost Albanian looking.” I try in vain to describe him. “Look, it’s easier for me to show than tell. I can give you a quick picture if you don’t mind?”

“You sure that’s a good idea?” He almost looks like he doesn’t trust me. “Seems your last little mind trip hit you pretty hard.”

“I’ve never done that spell on that sort of level before. Usually, it’s just one or two people and I’m not having to carefully pick through all my memories to make sure I don’t send the wrong things. Yesterday I was pushing detailed, specific, memories through seven people’s minds, plus all the feelings and thoughts that went with them.”

“How detailed we talkin’?” He asks. “Someone need to have a sit down with the niblet and explain a few things?”

“Seriously?” I snicker. “She’s, what, fourteen? Pretty sure she’s had the whole birds and bees talk already. At least, I hope so. If not, she’s gotta be pretty damn confused right now.” I laugh.

I can almost feel his anger starting to ramp up. Which is interesting as hell to me. Seems I’m not the only one who gets a bit of his paternal side. 

“Relax!” I say before he can explode. “I’d say the whole thing was pretty PG-13. Probably nothing she hasn’t seen on television. She’s probably seen soap operas just as graphic.”

“Not helpin’ your case, here.” He says rather flatly.

“I can show you the same things I showed them if you want?” I tried to say it without making it sound too painful. Pretty sure I failed.

“Appreciate it,” His demeanor softens considerably. “But after seein’ what that did to you yesterday, I think we’re both better off without the repeat, don’t you?”

My mind drifts across several memories before I can shut them down. I simply nod my agreement as I sit back down on the bed. And then something else pops into my head.

“Thank you, by the way.” I look up at him. “I was sinking a little too deep. How did you know when to stop it?”

“Didn’t,” He answers. “But I know pain, and yours was screaming like a bloody banshee. Knew I had to stop it before you ended up like the gypsy bird who drilled into Dru’s head. Wasn’t just you either. Whatever you showed the rest of ‘em, it put ‘em all on their arses as soon as I pulled you back.”

“So you just have some epic cosmic timing, then?” I ask him. 

He simply shrugs in answer.

“Why did you come back?” I ask out of curiosity. 

“Whole reason I went up there yesterday was to nick some Burba weed. Couldn’t rightly go back to my crypt without it, now could I?”

“Thank you,” I tell him one more time. “Now, will you let me show you? Just a few snapshots. Nothing more.”

“It’s important to you, isn’t it?” He asks, demonstrating more of that unnerving insightfulness of his. 

“It is,” I confirm for him. “Not like I can introduce you to him; but, at least I can show him to you.”

I can’t really explain why it’s important for me to show him. I’m not even sure myself. I just know I really need to, and I’ve learned over the years not to ignore that.

“Alright,” He concedes, and sits back down in the chair next to the bed.

I reach over with my fingers and gently press them against his temple. 

“Arată-i,” I whisper with just a touch of will. 

It takes only a few seconds to show him my beautiful Thomas, fighting beside me. Laughing with his family. Dancing with me on my 20th birthday. 

_“Soon, cuore.”_

I jerk my hand back as the wrong memory intrudes. The same one I’d been dreaming when I woke up. That was not supposed to happen.

My father gives me a confused look that morphs into a concerned one. Probably because I’m wondering what the hell happened myself. 

Thankfully I’m saved by a knock at the door. 

I extend my senses out, wondering who on earth would be coming by this time of day. It’s still early afternoon and I know I’ve already paid the rent for this month. Two humans. Both nervous. Whispering. Xander and Anyanka. 

I get up to go answer it. As soon as I open the door, they stop whispering, looking at me with uncertainty. 

“Hope,” Xander begins guardedly. “We, uh… that is… Giles called. It’s Buffy’s mom.”

I close my eyes, knowing the next words before he says them.

“She’s, uh… she died.”

The next thing I know, my father is pushing me aside as he wrenches the door out of my grasp and then jumps back from the afternoon sun shining through the door.

“Don’t be a git," He interrupts, annoyed. "Joyce is...” From the shadowed interior I see the realization cloud his face. “You’re not kidding, are you?” He’s suddenly stunned into silence. 

“Spike?” Xander’s startled confusion is predictable. “What’re you doing here?”

My father stares at him dumbfounded for several seconds, like Xander's words aren't quite proceeding.

“We’re on our way to pick up Willow and Tara,” Xander ignores my father and looks over at me. “After that, we’re meeting Buffy and Dawn at the morgue. Thought you might want to come.”

“I, uh, I just woke up,” I give them the first pitiful excuse I can think of. “I’ll shower and change and then meet you all there?” 

“You sure? We can wait if you want.” He gives Spike a critical eye. 

“Xander,” I begin, trying not to get too angry. “He brought me home and took care of me when I couldn’t take care of myself. He watched over me while I slept. Did you really learn nothing yesterday?” 

“Sorry,” He mumbles contritely. “Still sort of working through it all, you know?” 

I nod.

“It was, uh... it was a... a lot." He perceptibly shudders. "Give us… give us some time, ok? We sort of got a double whammy what with all that, and then Buffy’s mom…” His voice cracks. 

I hug him out of instinct, and I feel my father retreat further into the room. This Xander is so different from the Uncle I grew up with. Still, at this moment all I can picture is the broken man left after the mob took Anyanka. 

“You go on ahead,” I tell them. “I promise I’ll meet you there.”

He nods and then turns to leave. 

No sooner have I shut the door, do I hear my father’s voice, low and full of emotion. 

“Did you know?” He asks.

I open my mouth to answer, but my words don’t seem to be working just then.

“Did. You. Know?” I can hear every bit of the control he’s using to keep his calm.

My voice continues to abandon me, so I simply nod in acknowledgment.

“How could you?” He roars out his anger. “Joyce was one hell of a….” His own voice fails him for a moment. “Why didn’t you do something?”

“You think I didn’t want to?” I plead with him.

“Then why didn’t you?” He shouts.

“Because it was meant to be,” I quietly assert. “She died a natural death, from a mortal disease. It was her time. It’s the one death in which I can’t interfere.”

“There’s more then?” He asks after several long moments of silence.

How do I answer that?

“I can’t answer…”

“How many more?” He’s suddenly in my face, fully vamped, and the dangerous edge of his voice sends my slayer side into full alert, as an electrical shiver runs down my spine.

I have to play this strategically. He’ll know if I’m lying. But I can’t just lay out the whole future for him, either. There’s far too much at stake. 

“The whole world,” I tell him, causing him to back up a step as that sinks in. “My world was dying, Spike. Most of humanity is gone. All that’s left is a few cities like London, where what’s left of the humans and peaceful demons are struggling for survival.”

“‘S not what I meant,” He sulks.

“I know. But there’s a bigger picture here. There something coming, Spike. Something huge. And there’s something about to happen that can change it all if I can just figure it out. And I’m close! I know it!”

I pace over to my journal, lifting it up to show him all the scribbling within.

“I think I’m onto something big. Something we missed the first time!” 

“And if we lose the ones we’re fighting for?” He asks. 

“That’s just it! I think I can do it. I think I’ve found something that can help us defeat Glory without anyone having to die!” I realize my mistake as soon as the words are out of my mouth. “Fucking bollocks!”

“Who?” He asks, once again sounding imminently dangerous.

Fuck. Fecking, fuck. Could I have completely banjaxed this up more? And now how the bloody hell am I supposed to fix it?

And that’s when it hits me. I don’t really have to fix this.

“Glory uses Dawn to dissolve the walls separating earth from all the dimensions,” I answer him with complete honesty. 

For a moment, I’m not certain he believes me, but that doesn't hide the pain and worry he clearly feels at my revelation. 

“And you think you’ve found something to stop it?” He finally asks, guardedly.

“Yes!” I am both relieved and overjoyed. “I think I’ve found a weapon. Forged specifically for the slayer to help her banish the last pureblood demons from the earth.”

“And you know where it’s at?”

“No,” I somewhat deflate. “But I’m close, I know it.”

“And in the meantime?” He asks.

“In the meantime, we do what we can to protect them,” I answer. “And we grieve.” 

After interminable silence, I finally hear a deep abiding sigh. 

“She was a hell of a woman.”

“Yeah,” I agree. “How about you tell me more about her while I get ready?”

“Guess I can do that.”

I have no doubt.

Why on earth did it take a soul for them to see you?


	40. Chapter 39

_August 25, 2017_

I really love parties. No, seriously, I really do love them. You might think that being eleven hundred and thirty-eight years old, I’d be a bit tired of birthday parties and such by now, but nope. Parties are definitely my thing. Ok, well, technically vengeance is my thing but parties are a close second. Except for money. And sex. But parties are definitely way up there on the list. I think it’s my close attention to detail that really sets them apart. 

Take this one for instance. Everyone else was planning on having the usual get together at home with all of Phe’s friends and the potentials and such, but having her birthday party at the club seemed to me to be a much better idea. I mean, it isn’t like we’re trying to keep her secluded anymore or anything, so why not have it at one of the clubs like all the other kids nowadays? 

And boy was I right! Sure, it’s a little crowded, it is a Friday night after all, but it’s a huge hit! At least with Phe and the rest of her friends. She's out there dancing her little legs off with that tall potential, what’s her name…. Matilda! Poor kid, I don’t think Matilda got to do much dancing before coming here, but she’s certainly making up for lost time now. So is Phe. The kid can definitely shake a leg, that’s for sure. Then again, I guess having preternatural grace and skill would make for a pretty good dancer. 

I’m so glad she’s having fun. I was beginning to get worried. She’d been really wrapped up the last several days since Chloe was killed by that harpy demon. Normally Phe tries not to get too attached to the new slayers, but the last couple of years she’s been getting more and more involved with each new one. Chloe was the same age as Phe, and probably her closest friend. 

I’ve been feeling the vengeance waves coming off of her since even before they found Chloe’s body, but then again what fifteen-year-old girl isn’t just a giant ball of vengeance waiting to happen? I mean, between the cheating boyfriends, plus the backstabbing girl friends, and the well-meaning but inept parents and guardians, who can blame them? However, with the general mortality rate, everyone is a lot less interested in the whole idea of vengeance. Gotta keep everyone alive that we can, after all. 

But let’s face it if anyone has a claim to exact vengeance it’s definitely Miss Ophelia Summers! I’ve been living these past 16 years now just hoping she doesn’t seek vengeance on any of us. I mean, sure, I didn’t feel bad at all when Xander had his little slip of the tongue and wished Giles could remember what it felt like to have the love of your life killed when things were just starting to work out, but that was ages ago and I still don’t think it affected him nearly enough. Still, I’ve grown awfully fond of all of them, and it would be a shame if she asked me to maim or kill one of them. Not to mention, it would be a huge conflict of interest. 

Though, I really don’t think she’d do anything like that. Not to one of us anyway. She’s definitely wanting vengeance on someone, I just don’t know who yet. I’m pretty certain the why is that she’s been called. Which is kind of weird when you think about it. I mean, here she’s been waiting her whole life while training for this moment and talking on and on, as teenage girls do, about how she can’t wait to fulfill her destiny. Now that I’m pretty sure she’s been called, she’s suddenly all avoido girl. 

I’m fairly certain Connor has noticed as well, but he just keeps shushing me every time I try to bring it up or ask her about it. It’s not like they can hide it forever. Once Wes gives up hope that it’s one of the girls he’s got corralled here, he’s going to have the coven do the revealing spell and I’d bet good money it’ll lead straight to Phe. 

I wonder what the others will think when they find out? Xander’s easy, he’ll treat it like some big coming of age thing and be all proud of her and afraid for her at the same time. Willow will be a bit angry at first, wondering why she didn’t tell her the moment she got called. Then she’ll worry about why she wasn’t more in tune with Phe to have noticed the differences. Wes will probably be stoic and understanding but lecture her about how she should have come to him right away. Me, well, it doesn’t make a bit of difference to me. She’s really always been a slayer, so now it's just more official. Giles, though, well that’ll be interesting, to say the least. 

He’s been scared to death of this from the time she was a little girl. Sure, he talks a good game, but anyone with eyes could see he’s terrified. Not that anyone can blame him. He’s basically treated her like she was his own since she was tiny. Moreso. He’s been overcompensating for killing her parents just a wee little bit if you ask me. Heck, I think he’s even more attached to Phe than he was to Buffy, and that’s saying something.

No, he’ll take it badly. He’ll be even more angry than Willow that she didn’t tell him. He’ll be even more upset that he didn’t notice it. He'd be even more proud that she’s been called, and even more terrified because of it. He’ll smother the poor kid. Just when she’s finally gotten her wings, so to speak, thanks in large part to Connor’s efforts the last few years. So much for all that freedom now.

Oh. Oh, that’s not going to end well at all. Just look at her! She’s practically vibrating out there on the dance floor. It reminds me a lot of myself when I was her age, if I were two inches taller, had darker thicker curly hair, and slightly curvier hips, and was a dhampir. But she’s definitely got a good head on her shoulders and knows how to have a good time. Not to mention, she’s got a great sense of justice and isn’t nearly as black and white as the rest of our little group. Well, except Wes, he’s very reasonable for a watcher. No, she’s pretty much like any other fifteen… sixteen… year old girl now. Definitely not going to end well.

Is that why she’s hiding it? Surely she’s not on some sort of “wanna be a normal girl” kick? Because that would just be silly. Maybe she doesn’t want Giles to know because she’s worried how he’ll react? But then why wouldn’t she tell the rest of us? Why wouldn’t she tell me? It’s not like I’m going to blab it, it’s her secret after all. Maybe she thinks I’ll be afraid of her? Well, that’s just silly, too. 

Hey, where’d she go? She was just right there. It’s almost time for the presents! I got her the cutest little set of decorative hair sticks made from Australian ironwood. They’re both beautiful and functional! She can put up all that hair of hers, and use them for stakes in a pinch. 

Oh, there she goes. Running out the door with Connor right behind her. Must have sensed a demon. Giles looks like he’s dying to go after her, but thankfully Willow is talking him out of it. I wonder what Willow picked out for a birthday present? Guess it’s time to go get some fresh drinks. No one likes watered down stuff, and Giles is going to need more scotch if Phe comes out as a slayer. 

Wait a minute! I wonder if Willow knows, too? I mean, why else would she be trying to keep Giles from going after Phe? Well, he is getting a little old. Well, not old old, but he is definitely approaching an age when mortality is going to be an issue sooner rather than later. Then again, statistically speaking, they're all approaching the age when they have fewer years left than they’ve already accumulated, but Giles is definitely getting up there. 

But if Willow knew, and Connor knew, and she knew, then who didn’t know? She didn’t think Xander knew. But if Willow knew, chances were she had told Xander, so maybe he did know and just hadn’t said anything. Which would be strange, because Xander pretty much told her everything so she didn’t think he would keep that from her. So maybe he really didn’t know. She was certain Giles didn’t know. Like really certain. 

Did Wes know? Surely not, or he’d already have her out there patrolling. But she already was patrolling, just with Connor. So there wouldn’t be much change there. Maybe Wes did know. Maybe they all knew but didn’t know that they all knew. Or maybe she was getting a little bit carried away and no one but her and probably Connor knew. Well, and Phe, of course. 

Did Phe know? What was she thinking, of course, Phe knew. After all, all slayers get a giant boost in strength, skill, and abilities when they were called. It would be a little hard not to notice. Then again, Phe wasn’t exactly human, was she? She already had a giant boost of skill and strength and abilities just by virtue of being dhampir. The first in over a century, so no one even knew what to expect or what it would be like if she did get called. Maybe she was already so amped up she didn’t even really notice the difference? No, that’s just silly. After all, she had noticed the difference and she was fairly certain Connor had too, and if they noticed the differences then Phe had to have noticed herself. 

Speaking of Wes, he’d finally made it! Thank goodness, everyone was filing back in, everyone being Connor and Phe, followed by Wes. Who, now that she thought about it, looked graver than ever, which was definitely saying something. Wes always looked grave. Then again, heading up a council designed to find young girls and send them to their quick and untimely deaths was a pretty grave job. The fact that only a handful of watchers had even survived beyond the year they lost the battle of the Hellmouth, meant that even in rotation they all personally watched slayer after slayer die. Then again, how many slayers had they watched die in the battle? Well, not exactly watched but for all intents and purposes, it wasn’t much different.

As Wes starts to beat a path towards Giles, I decide to rescue this little party. I will not be having them ruin it for Phe! The poor kid has had a heck of a life and doesn’t need her birthday spoiled. Looks like Connor also has the same idea because he’s pulling Wes away while trying to talk to him. So Connor definitely knows and now he’s trying to get Wes to keep it quiet. At least, for now. Good. Birthdays should be celebrations. Not sure why Phe doesn’t want to celebrate being a slayer too, you know other than the certain knowledge of an early death, but hey it’s her birthday.

“OK, everyone! Time for presents!” I shout over the music. “After all, you only get one sweet sixteen!”

I see Wes give me a little side-eye and then nod at whatever Connor was saying to him before he silently steps up to join the group along with everyone else as I try to light the little cupcake with the big sixteen shaped candle stuck on top of it.

“Alright young lady,” I gingerly hand the cupcake to her. “You know the drill. Make a wish!”

This part gets me every time. Ever since she was old enough to really understand everything. She’ll pause and wait the longest time and then silently make her wish before blowing out the candles. It isn’t like I don’t know what she wishes for, I hear it every time even though she only says it in her mind. And every time I really do wish that I could grant her wish, but there are some things even a vengeance demon can’t do.

I remember the first time she made her wish and then looked at me with those big blue eyes. I hadn’t been expecting it, not from a five-year-old. It’s a good thing Xander figured it out so fast because it’s not like I could tell him why I was crying my eyes out while a five-year-old little girl with her daddy’s eyes was asking why it didn’t work. He pulled her aside and explained it to her, but it still broke her little heart. 

He’d have made such a good father. Not that we didn’t want children, but we both agreed it was a terrible idea to bring children into this world now that The First is killing everyone and everything around. We can’t even keep most of our group alive much less a bunch of small children.

“Well,” Phe begins with a look of deep concentration on her face. I’m not used to her saying anything out loud. “I can’t bring my parents or the others back. I can’t undo everything The First has done. I can’t even undo all the insane injustice that is little girls like Chloe being chosen to battle all the evil in the world that outnumbers and outweighs them.”

Everyone is suddenly struck silent. Something seems very wrong here and I think we all know it. The difference is, I can absolutely feel it. It’s practically screaming in my head.

“I can’t change what I am,” She adds with both sadness and anger. “But I can make up for it.”

“Phe…” Connor’s voice breaks the silence with what sounds like a strong caution. “You don’t…”

“I wish I could slay Chloe’s killer!” She sings out with surety, as she is looking squarely at me.

“Phew! That I can do!” I sigh in relief. “One harpy demon coming right up! Where would you like me to put it?”

“No!” Both Giles and Wes exclaim. “That’s an extraordinarily dangerous demon, Opelia,” Giles continues on a little calmer. “You can’t possibly think releasing one in such a confined and crowded area would be a good idea!”

“Pppffftt… duh!” I somewhat blow them off. “Give the girl some credit. I highly doubt she plans to fight it in here.”

“No, I don’t,” Phe is still smiling at me. But it isn’t her happy or appreciative smile. It’s a very unsettling smile. I don’t think I like it very much. 

“She shouldn’t be fighting it at all,” Giles counters. “A harpy demon is an extraordinarily dangerous demon even for a slayer. There’s a reason they’ve been able to survive for millennia. We can’t afford to lose anyone else on some petty vengeance wish, much less the potential person who will save the world.”

“She’s not talking about a harpy demon, are you?” Wes gives her a critical eye, apparently figuring something out. 

“Make him a vampire,” She says, still looking at me. 

“Oh god,” I whisper out, suddenly knowing with perfect clarify what and who she is talking about. 

“Strigo!” Willow’s spell suddenly freezes everyone and everything around us and almost knocks everyone off their feet. 

It’s a surreal experience, having the whole world suddenly stop. It doesn’t really stop, per se, it just sort of takes a little time out. Time slows down so much others don’t really seem to be moving at all. Problem is, you end up with a bit of time whiplash when you stop and then again when you catch up. Human bodies just aren’t really made to operate outside the normal parameters of time. Not to mention, you can only do it for seconds at most. 

“Make who a vampire?” Willow asks Phe. “And why?”

“Ostendo,” Phe whispers out with a level of anger I haven’t seen a long time from her. 

And suddenly we all see ghostly little soundless apparitions of Chloe and her little boyfriend, who is totally making out with some other girl. Chloe and him seem to argue, he gestures to the other girl and then he just shrugs and smirks, and Chloe turns around and takes off running. There’s more arguing between someone and the little twerp before the apparition fast forwards right to the scene of a harpy demon dropping a very dead Chloe, and then the apparition disperses.

“It’s his fault!” Phe insists. 

“Phe, we don’t kill humans,” Willow gently insists. 

“That’s why I want you to make him a vampire,” She turns to me look at me again. “Then I can make him pay for what he did to Chloe.”

“Oh, sweetie,” Willow suddenly grabs Phe and hugs her, much to her apparent displeasure. “I understand. I really do. But we can’t turn everyone we’re angry at into demons so we can kill them.”

“Why not? Anyanka does it every day!”

“I punish, Phe, not kill. Not anymore.” I clarify. “And he’s just a child.”

“So was Chloe!” She angrily pushes Willow away. 

“Chloe was a slayer, Phe. You know what that means.” Willow tries to reason with her. 

Apparently it was the wrong thing to say.

“And what about me?” Phe retorts angrily, tears in her eyes. 

“What do you mean?” Willow asks. 

“I’m the slayer now!” She says, tears pouring from her eyes. “Will you tell the next girl that I had it coming to?”

Willow’s eyes open wide with unexpected shock. I guess that answers the question of whether Willow knew or not. 

Suddenly everything jerks back into motion. Willow falls hard into a chair and Phe looks at Giles for a second and then takes off running for the door again, with Connor hot on her heels, as Giles and Xander rush to Willow’s side.

“Anya, you can’t…” Willow quickly insists.

Don’t worry,” I interrupt. “I won’t. Might do something else to the little twerp…”

“Oh Goddess, Anya! Phe! She’s…” Willow trails off, looking at me with that look of horror and sadness.

“She’s what?” Giles is catching on that something’s up and looking back and forth between me and Willow for answers. 

“Rupert, perhaps you should sit down?” Wes suggests.

“Or perhaps someone should tell me what the bloody hell is going on?” Giles stands up his full, straight, height and gets that rather angry and dangerous look on his face that always gives me a little bit of a shiver. 

“She’s been called, Rupert.” Wes answers in that soft but stern manner of his.

Giles blinks several times, slowly. Then he shakes his head slightly. 

“That can’t be…” Giles insists to Wes.

“I’ve seen it with my own eyes, she’s undoubtedly…” 

“She’s always had the skills of a slayer,” Giles interrupts, dismissing Wes’s observation.

“Be that as it may, she’s stronger now, faster, her senses even sharper,” Wes argues.

“Connor’s been training her. Helping her hone her…”

“He told me himself, Rupert. She’s been begging him not to tell anyone. He thought perhaps she just needed some time to find her own way to tell us, but he planned to talk to us tomorrow regardless of her wishes, if she didn't.”

“That’s preposterous,” Giles dismisses him again and turns to look at everyone around. “She would have told us. Wouldn’t she?”

“We need to find her,” Xander says with that quiet urgency that always reminds me of one of the many reasons I love him. “Now.”

“If anyone can track her, it’s Connor,” Wes reassures everyone. 

“Anya? Can you find her?” Xander turns to me. 

“Xander, please, Connor will find her and keep her from doing anything she might regret.” Wes insists.

“You don’t get it,” Xander tells him. “If she has gotten a slayer boost, she’s already lost him by now. Yeah, he may be able to track her down eventually, but she can do something monumentally stupid by then.”

“What are you suggesting?” Wes asks him. 

“She wouldn’t kill a human,” Willow insists. 

“Mark is just a diversion. He isn’t the one she really blames.” Xander tries to explain. And suddenly I understand why she was hiding it. Why she’s been sending out mixed signals both calling for vengeance and trying not to. 

“She blames herself.” Wes seems to also get it. 

“Think about it,” Xander tells him. “She finally gets everything she’s ever wanted. Her big destiny she’s always been waiting for, but in order for her to get it…”

“Chloe had to die,” Giles finishes. 

“Be careful what you wish for,” Xander gives me a sad smile. 

“But," Wes interjects. "Surely she wouldn’t do anything…”

“You do recall who her parents are, right? I mean, you've met Spike and Buffy, right?” Xander asks, looking somewhat incredulous, before turning back to me again. “Anya?”

“Yes, I can feel her,” I tell him quietly. 

“Take me to her,” Giles quietly insists before Xander can say anything else.

That renders everyone silent. I don’t think any of us expected him to be the one to insist. Xander, definitely. Willow maybe. Wes, possibly. Giles, though? Not even close.

“No offense, Giles,” I tell him. “But, you aren’t exactly known for being so calm and collected when Phe’s being all… well, Phe.”

“No,” He smiles sadly. “I suppose not. But right now, I think I’m perhaps the very one that she needs to see right now.” 

After a few questioning looks, everyone nods in my general direction. I sure hope he knows what he’s doing. 

He steps up next to me and I concentrate on following the feeling of Phe’s anger and teleport us to… the top of the Wellington Arch? Yup. The Wellington Arch.

“Dear lord!” I hear Giles exclaim when we come to a stop, grabbing my arm for security. 

Well, I hadn’t known she’d be all the way up here!

“Leave me alone,” Phe says, without turning around. 

Giles slowly moves forward to very carefully sit next to her. 

“Lovely view,” He comments nervously. 

Phe just ignores him. I’m beginning to wonder if this was really a good idea. 

“Do you remember when you were nine…”

“Look,” She cuts him off. “Just don’t, ok? Whatever big inspirational thing you think I need to hear, just save it.”

“Actually, I was about to tell you about how my actions led to the death of your mother.” Giles answers. 

Well, that sure wasn’t what I was expecting. Judging by the look she’s giving him, neither did Phe. But to his credit, Giles just keeps going.

“You already know that I staked your father. Sixteen years ago today, to be precise. It was probably the most arrogant and stupid thing I’ve ever done.”

Phe snickers just a little bit at that.

“What I didn’t know at the time, was how critical your father’s support was to your mother. What I didn’t know… what I couldn’t accept… was that they had become far more than just lovers. Buffy and Spike had developed a partnership. He understood her, perhaps far better than I ever did, and supported her each night to overcome the untenable odds of being a long term slayer on the Hellmouth. And he did so without ever asking her to be less than she was. Even when she was pregnant with you.”

I can tell she’s listening, but she doesn’t really give him any indication of it. 

“When I took Spike from her, I took the one person who would always, without question, put her life and needs above all else. Who would always have her back, should she need it. The one person who was predestined to be there to prevent her death. Had I not taken him from her, your mother would not have died that day in the school library.”

Phe stands up and gives him a rather disgusted look as she starts to back away from him.

“So, you see, I understand what it feels like to feel responsible for the death of someone you loved.”

Phe just shakes her head, but can’t seem to produce words.

“The difference is, I actually am. I loved your mother so much. As if she were my own child. Perhaps more than anyone else I had ever loved before,” He turns his head to look at her. “And yet, it was that very love that led me to make perhaps the worst mistake of my life. And every day I must face the fact that this very world is dying because of it.”

She freezes as she comprehends his words.

“And because of my actions, countless slayers over the last sixteen years have all died because of me.“ His voice breaks, accompanied by a small cry. 

Phe takes an unconscious step towards him, but then stops. 

“I became a watcher to help slayers,” He finally continues, looking back out at the park again. “Turns out, I’m rather good at getting them killed. Ninety-eight of them since your mother..." His voice breaks again and he cries quietly for a couple of minutes as Phe stands near him, seemingly uncertain what to do. “And now… I’m afraid… the one person I’ve come to love even more than Buffy herself will be the next one to pay the price. I don’t think even a vengeance demon could have devised a more perfect torture or punishment than waiting all these years, knowing that one day you would be the next one called. That I would ultimately be the one responsible for your death.”

I’ve known this for a long time, I think all of us have, but it’s something else entirely to hear him say it out loud. 

“I’m not going to die,” Phe asserts, surprising me as she places a comforting hand on his shoulder. “The powers finally picked the right slayer."

He grabs her hand and turns to face her, then breaks down and apologizes over and over. I’ve seen a lot of grown men cry and beg forgiveness before. Usually because of some sort of punishment that I’m inflicting on them. But seeing Giles like this is uncomfortable even for me. I guess Phe really did get her vengeance all these years. 

But then she does what I didn’t expect. She gets down on her knees and takes him into her arms, shushing him and telling him she understands now. 

“You can come out you know,” I whisper to the guest I’ve felt eavesdropping the last several minutes.

“Didn’t want to interrupt.” Connor steps up next to me. “Seemed like an important moment.”

“You think she’ll forgive him?” I ask him.

“I think she already has,” He answers. 

“Really?” 

“She gets it now,” He replies with a shrug.

“Get’s what?”

“All of it. Why he’s been so hard on her. Why he insisted she had to be better than any slayer ever. He needs to save her no matter what the cost.”

“And you knew this how?” I ask him.

“Sort of an expert on fathers and regret,” He answers rather sadly as he continues staring at the still embracing pair. 

I suppose he would be. We all stay there, just watching them for what feels like a long time. No one speaks. The world carries on around us, but it’s quiet here. One could even pretend, if you tried very hard, that everything in this world was just the way it should be. Like it wasn’t dying. 

“Anyanka?” Phe quietly calls to me.

“Yes?” I answer equally quiet. 

“I wish we could all go home,” She says without looking up.

I smile at Connor. It wasn’t the birthday I planned, but I guess it turned out ok in the end. 

“Wish granted.”


End file.
